Between Guitarstrings And Dice
by SincerelySummer
Summary: It looked so impossible. We were too different. Like fire and ice, black and white, sunshine and rain, noise and silence... a girl and a boy. Still, you have a way of making impossible things work, don't you? - NearxOC, Slight AU
1. Disclaimer

**Disclaimer:**

I do not own any Death Note characters that might appear in this story, nor do I own any songs that might pop up in here, either. All I own would probably be the original characters and the basic, nearly non-existent plot of this fanfic.

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**Warnings:**

This fanfic deals with lots of drama, emotional stress, some sexy, mature stuff, bad language that would make little kids cry, some mind-fuckery, and the molestation of Nate River, aka, our hottie-hot-hottie, Near-kun by yours truly. If you're wondering who the main female lead is, she's me because I have an urge to do something to that boy and this is the only way I know how to rock. If I seem emo inside of this story, do not be fooled. I am simply just sensitive to life. Give me a Pikachu and all will be well. Thanks ya.

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**More from the Author:**

I do not feel confident about posting this thing here AT ALL. Seriously! I don't like writing about myself because it feels like I'm praising myself and my face was like this: -_- forty percent of the time when I was writing it. If you flame me and hurt my feelings, I shall cry and delete the story and curse all you haters to turn into an exploding donkey. Okay, no, I am not that mean. I won't do the cursing thing, but I WILL take down the story if you guys don't like it. I suffer from this illness called insecurity if y'all have not noticed. It's worse than AIDS. If you pop me a nice review, however, I might think about kissing you. Are you hot, though? _-waggles eyebrows-_

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**How To Read:**

Odd numbered chapters are in Near's point of view, even numbered chapters are in third person narrative_ (not counting this charming little disclaimer, of course!)_. It's pretty easy to tell which is talking and which is thinking and all that jazz, so I leave it up to you, Ninja Reader!

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**Official Story Summary (Near's POV):**

_x.X.x_**  
**

_"Everything will happen at a twist of fate, two individuals colliding, clashing before intertwining._

_Soon, a new bond will be formed, stronger than steel, more fragile than glass._

_In a fight against the world and each other, they will break and fall apart,_

_only to come back together, more determined than ever.  
_

_This is the story of how a peculiar relationship between two very different people came about. _

_Because you had me at hello. Hit me with a stare, captured me with a hug, and finally sealed it with a kiss."_

_x.X.x  
_

I've never let anyone inside before. Friendship is irrelevant and love is just hormones. So why? Why did you try? You knew. I know you did. You knew that this could've never worked out. The chances were so low. It looked so impossible. We were too different. Like fire and ice, black and white, sunshine and rain, noise and silence... a girl and a boy.

_...Still, you have a way of making impossible things work, don't you?_


	2. Nate, Gift Of God

_"-But now I've learned to trust myself and I don't need anyone else. No one's here to light the candle, no one's here to light the way. It's something I will have to handle my way. I've got to open up my eyes, find a way to kill the boredom. Watch the time go by, now it's time for me to get mine."_

**-Trapt: Stay Alive**

* * *

My _'name'_, as some people would call it, is Near and I am currently exactly fifteen years of age. Thirteen years ago, I was two years old and living in a family of three, inclusive of myself. Back then, I was known as _'Nate River'_, the only son of a twenty-seven year old woman who quit her full-time job as a nursery-school teacher to pick up the role of being a full-time house wife as well as a full-time mother, and a thirty-two year old man who had a flourishing career as a doctor. I was born, lived and was raised in a quiet place in Thailand, even though I am quite certain that both my parents had no Thai blood running through their veins. Most likely, both of them had been immigrants who for one reason or another drew up plans to settle down and enjoy married life in a foreign albeit peaceful area in the outskirts of Thailand, and so carried out in doing so.

This may come as a surprise to you, but if one were to ask me right now how my parents looked like or what their names were, I would be incapable of providing an answer. This is merely because both of them had an untimely death contracting a deadly virus back when I still lived in Thailand.

If someone would ask me what I felt about it, I would simply tell them "nothing". I wasn't _devastated_ about it, I wasn't even _sad_. And no, it wasn't because I had a bad childhood full of abuse and gore and bloodshed and whatnot. From what I can barely remember, my mother, being quite a fan of children due to the nature of her career, tended to shower me with gifts of toys such as action figures, building blocks, stuffed animals which emitted a low, comical growl whenever you pressed down onto its belly. My father brought home books, which I instantly took an interest to, despite my young age. It's a faint memory, a five-second long flashback if you will, but I could remember sitting down by the window, using the sunlight beaming through the glass to aid in my new-found interest in reading.

However, that's all I can recall. Nothing less, nothing more. That's probably the most probable reason as to why I do not have much to add to this topic; my parents were practically strangers to me, like a fading, distant memory that happened but I felt like I wasn't really there to experience it first-hand. The virus took over and spread like a crashing tsunami coursing through the town and well over half the population was wiped out before a cure was eventually found. But as I have mentioned before, it was already too late. My parents were gone and I was brought away to a orphanage nearby with the rest of the children who survived the disaster when it was realized that I had no other connections to turn to. They accepted me and no one really paid any special attention to me after that.

That is, until I surprised everyone in the orphanage by preferring to sit alone in a corner with my books- books as thick as dictionaries, and often too heavy for my small hands to lift, books that normally adults would have to spend a week finishing and that children my age back then would have probably tossed aside after ruining the small fine-printed pages by streaking thick, colourful lines across with crayons.

_"Do you actually read and understand all those books, Nate?" _a surprised adult would often question and I would just silently nod and surprise them further by calmly reading a paragraph out loud with words I should have by right have even have trouble pronouncing at my age.

They would then huddle away in amazement from me, whispering words to each other, like 'genius' and 'prodigy' and 'unbelievable'.

I kept quiet and didn't bother about them. I wasn't particularly flattered or appreciative of the compliments since it didn't matter to me what people thought. I never had an interest in people at all, strange as you may call it. It might've just been the personality I was born with, or the basic reason that I didn't know _how_ to react to people. My parents weren't there to teach me plus I had no brothers or sisters, during the time when I was expected to learn how to make friends. I was rendered clueless. I didn't know how to play in the dirt, didn't know how to run around screaming and laughing, didn't know how to approach others even if I had wanted to. So I didn't. I was perfectly fine with that.

Was I lonely? I wasn't sure. I was content, I suppose. It was true that I hardly spoke a word if I could help it and the other children quickly gave up trying to get me to join in their games. I was too busy. Too busy reading and reading, trying to finish the books that once belonged to my father and too busy playing with the toys my mother had gave me before her death that I had managed to bring along. Then, one day, when I was left by the others who had gone outside to bask in the warm sun and play in the playground outside, I glanced around the empty room and down at the toys scattered all around me and the thick novel placed in my lap. The far-away laughter of children echoed in my ears from the outside and the wind blew into the room and the thin curtains flapped along with the breeze.

I... felt sad. It was a feeling I was not quite familiar with. I didn't know why I suddenly felt sad or why I did. It was just there for no apparent reason at all. I picked up the closest action figure next to me and examined it closely, remembering that this was the fifth toy my mother had given me. I looked down and also realized that in the middle of the seventh chapter of the book, the page was dog-eared. My father never got to finish this novel. It was true that I never really knew the strangers I called parents, but that never stopped the tiny part of me who wished I did. However, I eventually grew to get over that, and learned to accept that from there onwards, I truly was on my own. My deceased parents quickly faded away in my memories and all the remaining traces of sadness faded away with them.

I was close to five years old when _he_ finally showed up. Quilish Wammy. That was a much more solid memory of mine. A kindly-looking old man with round-glasses and a graying mustache had appeared at the doorsteps of the orphanage I was housed in one day, claiming to be on a search for "gifted children" he could bring back to Winchester, England for God-knows-what reason. All fingers were pointed at me and I was brought into an empty playroom to take a written test, having to sit on a chair with books to prop me up so I was able to write on the paper properly.

I answered question after question calmly, some of them being mathematical sums which just required a little thinking, and some of them questions which answers I have came across in books I have read before. Easy. Too easy. Majority of the answers came almost automatically to me and I finished the one and a half hour paper in forty minutes and even Mr. Wammy was surprised. He checked and graded the paper, turned to me with the biggest smile anyone has even shown to me and patted me on the head, saying in a pleased tone, _"Well, Nate, it looks like I'm taking you back with me to Winchester after all! These are the absolutely highest scores I have seen in a long time even amongst kids trice your age! Incredible, really..."  
_  
We flew to Winchester by plane and he took me back to the orphanage he owned the very next morning. While we were still sailing through the air in my first plane, Mr. Wammy had told me to address him as 'Watari', since according to the new rules I had to abide at Wammy's house, an alias was required. I nodded silently like how I always did whenever I agreed to a question and he smiled warmly. He then explained to me why he was traveling the world to sought out 'geniuses like myself'. Apparently, at Wammy's house, you were given the opportunity to be trained to inherit the title of becoming 'L'.

Watari told me all about 'L' and I listened quietly, putting my hand in my hair due to a habit I had developed since my hair curled at the ends and always tickled my face. I twirled my hair absentmindedly as he explained to me that 'L' was a person, a detective and a role. He wasn't just a detective, he was the **best** detective in the world. Everybody wanted to be like L. I learned that every day, every night, for every minute, every second, every moment that passed by in that orphanage, was dedicated to improving one's self to live up to the properties of L. He was a legend, an almost Godly title waiting to be taken, if anybody was brave or good enough to climb that high. The more Watari spoke about L, the more I grew interested. Slowly, that mild interest became a burning desire and for the first time, I suddenly had a goal in life. _I wanted to surpass L._

The plane landed and we were made to grab our things and take a cab to the orphanage. When we were in the cab on our way there, Watari said to me words that played a big part of making me who I am today. _"Near," _he chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. At first I didn't get what he meant until he told me._ "That shall be your alias from now on. Your new identity. Near; because for the first time in well over a dozen years, I have never seen anyone having the potential to be so near in having the chance in surpassing L."_

From that day onwards, Nate River, the orphaned boy who was always alone and never said a word to any one out of his own accord, died. I was reborn as Near of Wammy's house, the first one in line to succeed L.


	3. Michelle, Who Is Like God

_"-It doesn't hurt me. Do you want to know how it feels? Do you want to know that it doesn't hurt me? Do you wanna hear about the deal that I'm making? You... it's you and me. And if I only could, make a deal with God, I'd let him swap our places. Be running up that road, be running up that hill, be running up that building. So, if I only could..."_

**-Kerli: Running Up That Hill**

* * *

Her name was Michelle Chua.

And she ran away. It was as simple as that. And it was so lonely, so confusing, so damn maddening and frightening to be on her own like that, but _she_ _didn't care_. It was crazy, really, the way she did it. The way she upped, packed her bags and left that house after secretly booking a flight to a small, but busy town somewhere miles and miles from where she lived.

_The further the better_, she thought. _I have to get away. Away from here. Away from all this shit._

It was a desperate and reckless move._ She didn't care! _She didn't know where she was going, but she still left. She wanted to. She couldn't stand it anymore, it was driving her nuts.

The way her father always yelled at her to be more useful, to be more smarter, to be more hardworking, to be more like her sisters, to be someone she's not? _Behave, Michelle, behave. Work harder! Your scores are lousy, _He scolded. _Why can't you be more like my friend's son? All the children besides you are so hardworking! No one else is like you!_

Yeah, she could deal with that. Only because she loved her father so damn much. She never said a word against it. She didn't want to appear spoiled. He was already giving her so much...

Stressful, stressful, stressful. It hurt. The first child, right? She had to be the best. What else was she suppose to do?

The way her best friend betrayed her so easily. She wasn't good enough for anyone, even her friends. If a friend of _seven years _could turn away like that, suddenly decide to dispose of her because she suddenly found someone 'cooler' and 'better' and _so much more_ 'fun', who needed her? Not her.

_I can't take your shit anymore, you're fat, ugly and short,_ She didn't know May felt that way about her. Like an abrupt slap in the face. She left her cold and hanging even after the eleven messages she sent, begging her to explain what was going on. Yes, she did have a bit of a temper and yes, she tend to get selfish and stubborn sometimes, but... why? _Sayanora, my ex-bestfriend._

Michelle understood that. Well, she wasn't good enough, right? She could deal with that too. She understood perfectly. May had her own mind, her own choices to make. What she didn't understand was that why May had ran off with Valerie, who was also her second best friend, when _she_ was the one who introduced them to each other?

Confusing, confusing, confusing. It hurt so much. It broke her down and made her feel like a complete and utter _loser_. No other friends? Yeah. Because apparently, she thought that May and Valerie were everything she ever needed. Was she wrong?

Before she knew it, she could barely find the will to smile or laugh anymore. Locked herself up in the room, staying up late nights to waste away on the internet that she relied on as a source of entertainment. Isolation only leads to more disasters to come.

Failing exams _**(you're not smart enough.)**_, disappointing people over and over again _**(you're not useful enough.)**_, losing people you loved **(**_**you're not worthy enough.)**_, your parents constantly arguing and accusing each other of committing infidelities _**(won't you do something? cowardly daughter.)**_, your younger sisters surpassing you _**(it's like you're getting stupider and stupider.)**_, always getting poked fun at for physical flaws_** (you can't even get THAT right, can you?)**_...

Stop..

_Stop..._

**STOP!  
**

_**(...Sometimes goodbye is a second chance. Don't give up. Not yet.)**_

* * *

...So, she ran.

She picked up her shattered ego, her panic-stricken mind and her dented heart and came to this small town. First, it was messy. She didn't know where to go, or where to start, or what to do. She figured she should find a place to stay, but until then she lived in cheap hotels because she never really rented a place before. She was so _scared_. So _pathetically clueless_, as well. A fourteen year old girl? Here? Hah! What a joke. What a mess. She wasn't going to last a month here. The world was going to gobble her up like a monster opening up its sharp jaws, waiting for a tasty, young snack to walk straight in.

The thought of running back home with her tail between her legs sickened her. She never answered the calls or messages or emails her father tried to get through to her by. She couldn't do it. she didn't have the guts to. Sick with guilt, and plagued with loneliness, she decided maybe she should try distracting herself by leaving that tiny, mopey hotel room and take a walk around town. Not like she had anything to do, anyway.

When you're a foolish, fourteen year old girl with no friends, no family to turn to, you're bound to go insane. It felt like everyone she passed was staring at her, mocking her behind her back with she wasn't looking.

_'Hey, little girl, just go on home. There's nothing for you here.'_

_'What do you think you're doing? Turn around and run home to daddy! That's it...'_

_'We don't need more like you here, typical waste-of-space...'_

_**(Do you hear that? Laughter. They're laughing at you, stupid. Walk faster, hurry up, get away. Run away. That's what you're best at. Even from your own mind, your own imagination...)**_

_Heeeeyyyy, girlie, you look like you wanna have some fun? Wanna go back to my place for a night you'll never forget, whore? _Michelle stumbled backwards, nearly screaming when she bumped into a drunken man, dressed in things tattered enough to be called rags. He swung a bottle of cheap whiskey in his left hand and reached out for her with his right, smiling a lecherous, toothy grin.

He touched her arm and she found enough sense left in her to smack it away, whipping around to speed off in the opposite direction. Tears prickled up in her eyes and she shook, disgusted, embarrassed and utterly petrified. The world was horrendous. Her feet burned from running.

At the very end of town, she came to a place called Ocean Peak. It was more of an old, abandoned cliff where no one really went to. Ocean peak stretched out towards the sea, raising up a towering, mossy tree that hung vines on its branches, swaying with the ocean's salty breeze, along with a faded sign that had the 'e' scraped out from the place's name.

Michelle sat behind that tree, staring with dead eyes out into the water; miles and miles of deep ocean acting like a haunting reminder of how far away she was from home. She sat there for hours. For the whole day, maybe, and when the stars finally lit up the sky, she raised her head, got to her feet and screamed.

and screamed...

and screamed...

And screamed.

_Snapped._

_**(When you have no one to turn to, no friends, no family, who do you talk to?)**_

_WHY? GODDAMMIT, WHY? I'M HUMAN TOO. I HAVE FEELINGS TOO, CAN'T YOU SEE? ARE YOU BLIND? AM I THAT MUCH OF A PAIN, OF A MISTAKE, UNTIL THE MERE SIGHT OF MY FACE MAKES YOU WANT TO VOMIT? WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU? FUCK. HELP ME, FUCKING HELL, HELP ME ALREADY. DON'T LEAVE ME HERE. HELP ME._

_**(I turn to God. If he's up there. If he's willing to listen.)  
**__  
I'M TIRED... SO FUCKING TIRED. WHAT? ARE YOU TELLING ME I CAN'T BE? CAN'T I EVEN HAVE THAT? I'M SO SICK OF THIS. IT'S LIKE I'M SUFFOCATING. WHY IS NOBODY HELPING ME? I'M WORN OUT, EXHAUSTED, AND I DON'T FUCKING KNOW WHAT I WANT TO DO ANYMORE! I WANT TO BREATHE. I WANT TO FEEL LIKE I'M WORTH MORE THAN THE DIRT BENEATH PEOPLE'S FEET. I WANT TO BE MORE THAN JUST A FUCKING BRAT STRANDED ON A DAMN CLIFF, JUST BECAUSE SHE SCREWED UP BIG TIME. I WANT TO LIVE. AND I WILL. BECAUSE GUESS WHAT? I THINK I FUCKING DESERVE THE RIGHTS TO THREAD ON THIS BLOODY EARTH AS WELL AS ANYBODY ELSE... SO I GET IT! I GET IT NOW, I GET IT...!_  
_  
_The hysterical screams reverberated out into the stretches of dark ocean and melted together with the emptiness of the abyss. The waves were slamming viciously below against the rocks at the bottom of the cliff, and the shrill wind whistled, as if screaming along in agony with her._  
__**  
(Hear my plea. Sit with me. Have the chair at the table, I'll take the floor. Have a conversation with me, will you? I have no one else to talk to... I'll just take some of your time. Just a little bit. I promise.)**_

The flood of tears dried, leaving blood-shot eyes and a stuffy nose. The screaming came to a cease and replaced with confused whimpers, throat sore with numbness.

_...I get it now._  
_**  
(I'm just a child. Nothing more, nothing less. I'm sorry if I'm taking your name for granted. I'm sorry for yelling so much. I'm sorry for wasting my tears. I'm sorry for hurting my parents. I'm sorry for not understanding my friends. I'm sorry for causing this mess. I'll clean it up. Once my feet stop hurting and I calm down and let the insanity shrink back into that box inside of me, I'll get up. I'm still alive. Life goes on, doesn't it, God..?)  
**_  
She wiped the dampness off her filthy face and forced herself up onto her feet, wobbling like a new-born foul. She turned her head to the direction of the yellow street lights lighting the way to town and walked home. It hurt a little less now.

_...and life goes on. _

* * *

Money went down as easily as water went down a drain. She decided to look for a job. But hope seemed so low, and lady luck provided no help at all. Rejection was waiting to slap her in the face everywhere she went. Sometimes, she wasn't old enough. Sometimes, they had better options. Sometimes, the pay was too little. Sometimes, they didn't trust foreigners. Sometimes, they thought she was _joking_.

_**(It's so tough to be a kid in an adult world. It's even worse when you're walking solo. Don't give up. You're already back up on your feet. Just keep walking, okay?)**_

That was when she passed an instrument shop just around the corner with a sign hanging at the window, reading, "HELP WANTED, WALK-IN INTERVIEW, NO EXPERIENCE REQUIRED". That caught her eye somehow and she did exactly what the sign told her to do and walked in. That was the first time she met Rodney Andrews.

_Call me Rod, _he said with a smile. The first smile she got since she came here. He was a man in his early twenties with a bright smile and even brighter personality that somehow made Michelle feel comfortable for the first time she got here. Messy brown hair and friendly eyes that glowed with warmness behind thin glasses made her unconsciously smile back as they shook hands. _Congratulations, you're hired!_

The work she had to do was simple. All she had to do was sweep and mop the floors, give some of the instruments a good dusting once in awhile, smile and greet the customers and mind the cash register.

_**(See! I told you things would perk up sooner or later. Don't stop. Keep walking.)**_

_What's this? _She asked one day when Rodney handed her an envelope. She opened it and almost dropped the whole thing when she saw a wad of cash. _It's your pay, short stuff, _Rodney teased with a laugh and a wink. Michelle scowled at that but it dropped when she looked down at the money again. _It's too much for one week, really... this wasn't what you said you'd pay me before! _She whined, a bit guilty as she tried and push the money back into his hands, but Rod shook his head. _No can do, sweetheart, _he smiled and patted her on the head, making her take the envelope. _Rosette and I know the predicament you're in, and she's real worried. And hey, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't either, alright? So keep the money. You earned it._

For the time in months, Michelle broke into a smile- a real one- and nearly knocked Rod off his feet with the biggest hug he ever hoped to imagine receiving from from a fourteen year old. _I've earned it? I've earned it... _she repeated the words in her head and suddenly, she felt a little bit better about herself.

Rosette, Rod's wife, was hardly ever at home. Michelle had met her personally several times, but she never stayed for long. But she was nice. She was a beautiful lady with a shining personality to match, but a heart made for traveling. Her passion was dance and she went around the world teaching and studying dance. Rod loved her dearly, but he hated traveling. _You see, I don't have a problem with trains or airplanes and stuff, but what I hate the most is riding a boat... _he grimaced and sighed. _I'd love to follow Rosette around, but I get seasick SO easily! And I bet God thought he was being funny when he decided to make me marry a woman who's in love with traveling via the ocean. _Michelle laughed and patted him on the back. He grinned and mentally thanked God for making it up to him by finally sending him some good company.

_**(You see, the world is fair, to both the bad sides and good sides. Life gives you misery, you get happiness. Life gives you enemies, you get friends. So shut your complaining mouth, smile, and keep walking.)**_

Rod had a second surprise for her. Apparently, before opening his shop, he had been living in an apartment nearby that he owned. But the thing was, his shop was also half of a house, where he had a second apartment built on top of it. _Why would you give a fourteen year old girl a free apartment? _Michelle gaped slightly at the silver key in her palm. Rod shrugged. _Because, if I know you, you'd probably get kidnapped in those dusty, old hotels you live in... and accidentally kill your kidnappers. I don't want you to be a murderer._ He told her with an almost serious face that only made Michelle scowl- then laughed and hugged him.

Things were picking up after that and that girl pretty much returned to her normal self. Her original self, where she was always, always laughing everyday and acting like she didn't have a care in the world. She danced, swayed to the music of the radio playing in the shop while using the broom as a dance partner, sang along to the craziest, cheesiest love songs and really never felt happier.

_**(Maybe it's time for a new pair of shoes...)**_

She exercised, made sure she lost the extra weight that May used to make fun of her for having, got rid of the acne on her cheeks that made her look so damn ugly by religiously applying anti-blemishes creams and she cut her hair, got rid of the stupid-looking center parting and traded it for shorter, thinner hair and bangs that fell over her forehead. She never looked better. Then came Rod's constant nagging about her needing to kick her computer addiction (finally coming to the point where he had to threaten to stop paying the electricity bill over the phone if that made her get her ass out of the apartment and out more often) and do something else. Michelle sighed, rolled her eyes but agreed. _Teach me how to play the guitar, then, _she pouted. _But you're musically challenged. You said so yourself. _Rod made a face and she casually shrugged and grinned. _Never stopped me, has it? _

_**(Yup. She was definitely back. Way-to-go, girl.)**_

* * *

One fine Sunday morning, a very interesting conversation took place in Rod's instrument shop.

"MICHELLE! Why don't you get some friends?"

"Yes Boss- huh, what..?"

"Frieeeends! I realized. You're like a damn loner with no friends-"

"I'll die without people."

"So why are you still alive, hmmm?"

"That's cause you're enough 'people' to fill a room, Boss."

"...Out. Out of my shop!"

"...I haven't finished cleaning the window."

"Ou-"

"Window!"

"-NOT IMPORTANT! Get out there and make some friends! ..or a boyfriend, eh? Now, THAT'S an idea!"

"...Like guys would want me. Now leave me alone. I want to clean the window."

"What's with your obsession about keeping the windows clean? Seesh! Short stuff, I know you're into romance and crap, so get out there and bring Boss home some guys!"

"YOU'RE MAKING ME SOUND LIKE A PROSTITUTE!"

"Which reminds me. I wonder why the police haven't shut me down for keeping a prostitute in my shop.."

"You talking bout yourself now, Rod?"

"...get a girlfriend. You're bisexual, right?"

"...Rod."

"What's your type?"

"SEEESH! SO ANNOYING! Type...? Hmm... How about an angel?" Michelle tapped her chin sarcastically in thought, "I want an angel, alright? AN _**ANGEL**_! Now leave me alone, ya nut."

"Hm, well, that might be aiming a little too high for your standards, especially since it's your first time and all, but I'm sure that can work out somehow!" Rod chirped, grinning cheekily as he grabbed her shoulders, pried her away from the window despite her protests and chucked her out the front door. "Bye, sweetheart! Good luck in finding that angel of yours!" He yelled after her and waved before quickly shutting the door and locking her out.

Michelle deadpanned at the closed door in front of her, twitched, and stuffed her hands in her pockets before turning around and making her way down the streets while grumbling.

_An angel? _She snorted to herself mentally, who was she kidding? There was no way she was going to find an angel in this dinky little town... did angels even exist in the first place? And why would one agree to be her boyfriend? Hah! The thought...

She kicked a pebble out from the sidewalk and frowned. _Yeah, but maybe Rod's got a point there... _she sighed, shuffling in her sneakers down the pavement. _Maybe I do need someone... not necessarily a boyfriend, but maybe.. a friend. I mean, I got Rod and Rosette having my back and all, but it's not the same... I need... someone closer to my own age. Someone who I can look forward to seeing, to do all that jazz, you know? I need some company. Not sure who's gonna want me, though. _Michelle dryly chuckled to herself and shivered as a strong gust of wind blew in her direction.

_Fuck!_ She cursed as she whipped the hair out of her eyes and tried to keep her hair in place with her hands. _Damn wind, always fucking up my hair... I never had this problem back when I didn't give a shit about my hair... _Michelle mumbled out loud and turned to the window of a coffee shop to fix her messed-up hair. When she was done and satisfied, she was about to turn to leave when something... someone caught her eye.

Her jaw dropped slightly and she squished herself against the window, ignoring random passerbys who shot her a weird look as they walked passed.

_...White? WHITE! Ohmygosh, that person is so white? His hair is white.. his clothes are white... his skin..! It looks like he's glowing... _she gaped in amazement and gushed to herself in her head._ A boy? How old is he? Doesn't look very old... but white hair? Is it dyed? It can't be natural, can it...? I-it looks like he's wearing a ring of light around his head... like a halo.. Who is he..? What is he..?_

_It can't be..._

_**(...An angel..?)**_


	4. Catching One's Eye

_"-I walk this empty street on the boulevard of broken dreams, when the city sleeps and I'm the only one and I walk alone. My shadow's the only one that walks beside me. My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating. Sometimes, I wish someone out there will find me. Until then, I walk alone."_

**-Green Day: Boulevard Of Broken Dreams **

* * *

I never liked the outdoors much. That hasn't changed since I was young. I'd much prefer lurking in the corner of some dark room with the curtains drawn, depriving myself of sunlight rather than go talk a walk during a bright, sunny day. It didn't matter much because I had everything I needed inside of the house, anyway. There was never a need to venture into the outdoors. So, I was completely clueless to as why I was currently outside pacing the pavement when I could have been inside of my sheltered bedroom, entertaining myself with my newest collection of toys. Outside was somewhat boring.

Just for your information and for the sake of keeping you updated, nothing really changed since I arrived at Wammy's. Watari was right. Apparently, I did possess great potential and by the time I was eight, I was ready to take the first examination that was required to determine my rank in the orphanage. Like mostly all examinations that I had sat for, I scored a perfect score in that particular test- something others before me had failed to achieve for a very, very long time. I was automatically placed at the very top of the ranking chart. The teachers, caretakers and even my fellow 'geniuses' were amazed. They were astounded, impressed, and dare I say, even _outraged_ at my budding and rapidly growing intelligence.

One of those who were outraged was a particular boy whose alias was Mello. Mello was three years above my age and was apparently the original number one at the orphanage until I made my debut. With my new appearance, he was pushed down below me to take the place of number two, instead. He knew that I was younger, sharper, more intelligent and much _better_ than him and it killed him softly. It was an agonizing fact and soon, my mere existence became a living nightmare to him. He was obviously not very happy about it.

Out of frustration, and what I presume was jealousy, Mello went out of his way to channel his uncontrollable feelings into making my life as hell-like as possible. Mello had an accomplice. His alias was Matt- a rather plain, ordinary alias to pick, if you ask me. Matt wasn't really as plain and ordinary as his alias might have suggested, though.

He was a laid-back person, who always had goggles shielding his eyes and never really liked moving around much, except for when Mello asked him to. He was addicted to video-games and would often be seen playing with a game-console or hogging the television with his play-station set in the common room. Matt was undoubtedly a bright boy... ranking third in the charts, so I could never understand his decision to pick up the habit of smoking cigarettes every time he got the chance to do so without the teacher's knowledge. Like his video-games, smoking too had soon steadily grew into an unhealthy habit. He didn't care much for studying, despite his high ranking.

Matt did almost everything Mello told him to, including taking part in a long-term plan to 'bring me down', such as Mello would describe it. Together, they would do things like steal my studying notes and textbooks in hopes that they would get me to fail a test for once, or hurl insults at me and call me names such as 'Albino brat' (which I found to be rather uncalled for and quite rude at times), or take away my toys to hide them from me, knock over my domino and lego towers, and perhaps play a prank on me every once in awhile such as dyeing all my white blouses pink or behead my toy robots or stuffed animals, leaving me to discover their awful dis-figuration when I got back to my room. The list of their callow abuse would have been quite lengthy, had I actually made one. Their efforts were all in vain, as I remained unperturbed. And of course, I was still always the one who ended up with the highest scores of any examination at the end of the day in any case.

I never hated Mello, despite all he did to me. On the contrary, I held some feelings of admiration for him, in a way. He was very interesting. He, unlike myself, loved to speak out loud. He always spoke- _and was mostly always speaking_- his mind and would have fought bravely to the death for what he believed in, which I personally found to be a very admirable thing. I could have related, but I never spoke up unless challenged directly. Again, unlike myself, Mello was extremely emotional. He reacted heavily towards the smallest things and had a well-known reputation in getting into fights with some of the older kids, and was often feared terribly by some of the younger ones. As he was hated, he was also loved and definitely respected by most of his peers. I was always the slightest bit amazed as how someone could have pulled onto the heartstrings of so many people at one go, be it in a negative or positive manner.

There were some similarities between him and I, however. We were both very competitive and I enjoyed the competition and rivalry between us wholeheartedly as much as it drove him to work harder. It was refreshing to have someone on the same level as you were for a change. It was also a lesser known fact that Mello sometimes enjoyed being alone, such as I did. Once in a blue moon, I would hear the faint crunch of leaves rustling under footsteps and I would peer outside my bedroom window just in time to catch a certain chocolate-loving blond sitting solo under a tree, gazing up at the clear night sky, milk-chocolate bar hanging loosely in his mouth. I would watch him for a few minutes before shuffling back to my toys on the floor only to find him long gone in a few hours time when I checked once again.

Still, unlike me, Mello never lacked company. It was true that Mello might've been envious of my position and talent concerning our studies, but I was admittedly slightly envious of something of his. Unlike me, Mello always had people willing to be around him. And even if perhaps, one day, everyone suddenly lost interest in being around him, he would most certainly have Matt, who I was quite sure would never abandon his post as his _'best friend'_.

As for me, I never had someone I could call a real 'friend', much less a 'best friend'. But that again, was just a trivial issue. I learned that through everyday drama that seemed to pop up around me like white daisies in a garden. Girls would cry because they would get into petty arguments that ruined their friendships, boys would fight over girls and earned bruises and detentions, and girls _and_ boys would depart each other with broken hearts after failed romantic relationships. I can honestly say that I have never ever experienced any of those before, and I assure you, I don't find the thought of doing so particularly appealing. All that unnecessary chaos was simply a waste of time and was ridiculously _stupid_.

My mind had somehow equalized having bonds- _family, friends or love_- as something that I was better off without. All of those bonds only seemed to result in pain and trauma, and none of that was required for me to study better. I convinced myself that I was fully contented with being alone. I would be a boy in a glass case- someone who people can watch and look at from a comfortable distance, but not touch. Because I was uncomfortable with any form of physical contact in the first place anyway, to be frank.

I didn't get what the big fuss over love was about, either. What was so appealing about the opposite sex that made the other boys drool and chase after them? Once had I taken the time to study a couple of girls at the other end of the common room where I had been busy solving a 5000-piece puzzle in and found myself gaining a strange curiosity. They... looked different from males, that's for sure. They also sounded different too. Their voices were higher pitched and most of them would be squealing and giggling every few seconds in excitement, or laughing at what the other had to say. I frowned. Girls were such noisy creatures. What made the other boys attracted to such noise? Perhaps it was a siren's song that strangely had no effect on me.

I faintly remember that there was a girl who went by the alias of 'Linda', who ranked at position number fifty-three. I never took it upon myself to speak more than a sentence to her, but I should think I still remember how she looked like correctly. She was a girl of average height for her age, with a rather plain, simple face along with plain hair the colour of brown Autumn leaves, always up in two pigtails. There was nothing about Linda that really caught my eye except for her willingness to help everybody, anybody, be it a boy, girl or an animal. She never failed to welcome others with a friendly, closed-lip smile and I suppose she was a bit more mature than most girls her age, since she was always fixing her friends' problems. Another thing that stuck out from Linda was that she loved art and she was extremely talented at it, often gaining compliments and acknowledgment for her still-life portraits. She was similar to Matt, who didn't care much for studying, but studied anyway for the sake of it. I overheard a conversation between her and a friend of hers that she would rather leave the orphanage when she was old enough to pursue a career as an artist, instead.

Well, there was one time where a rather... interesting rumor was floating around the orphanage. For a short period of time before it eventually died down, I could hear the playful singing voices belonging to children living in the orphanage, going, "LINDA AND NEAR, KISSING IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!", and I would always freeze up with my toy airplane up in mid-air, and soon forcing it to make an emergency landing to look up curiously as to where the disturbance was coming from.

It was nothing short of absurd. I had no idea where such nonsense materialized from.I hardly ever went outside, much less climbed up trees, and I have most certainly _**never**_ kissed a girl before. And why Linda? Just because she made it a point for herself to ask politely if I wanted to join in their fun and games every once in a while? I never accepted her invitations in the first place and I was sure she was just being friendly, as per usual.

That was a surprisingly short-lived theory of mine that was immediately killed off once I overheard her group of friends questioning if she had indeed fancied me or not. She stayed quiet in the middle of her circle of friends before answering with a timid 'yes', followed by familiar, exaggerated squeals of excitement that I had begun to grow used to every time the girls came close to me. They sounded amused and bombarded her with questions of 'how', 'why' and 'when', and she hesitated before mumbling that she fancied me for a month or two now because I was 'smarter and appeared more mature' than the other boys. I shuffled away from the door quickly, making sure I stayed hidden as I retreated back to the common room, deathly unamused by the confirmation of such a rumor.

It wasn't that I had anything against Linda. I couldn't really say the same for the idea of her _fancying me_, though. It didn't make much sense. Maybe, she would've been okay as a friend, but she didn't even make it that far before deciding that she liked me. How could you possibly like someone that you've only spoken to less than a dozen times before? And why would she fall in love with my intelligence? There were plenty of other guys who were intelligent as well, such as Mello and Matt and even others before them, who would probably have been flattered being liked by a girl such as herself, instead of myself who was quite... _disturbed_. Lastly, I didn't quite agree that I was any more maturer than the other guys, just because I don't go goo-goo-eyed every time I spot a pair of female legs underneath a flowery dress, or mini-skirt. Unless having a lack of raging pre-teen hormones counted as being 'mature', then I suppose she was right. Other than that, I find myself to be rather childish at times admittedly, but I guess she wouldn't have known that seeing as she didn't even _know_ _me_.

Perhaps _that_ was it. Hormones. It appeared that not only boys, but girls could get hormonal too. That was probably what inspired Linda, then.

_**Love**_ is just _**hormones**_.

Sometimes, I wondered what it would be like if I had been injected with hormones as well. Would I have been equally attracted to Linda, then? Would I suddenly have the urge to pay more attention to females? Would I have wanted to get into a relationship of some sorts? What does one do in a relationship, anyway? I heard that when a girl and boy becomes girlfriend and boyfriend, they do things such as hugging... cuddling... and _kissing_.

For a brief moment, I tried to imagine myself hugging, cuddling and kissing with Linda and I instantly stopped before I had the urge to gag, intensely disturbed by the image formed in my head. I blanched and my face screwed up as if I had just bitten into a lemon and I was sure that if anybody would've caught me making that face, they would've walked into a wall in shock. It just seemed so... wrong. _Me_ doing those type of things. Touching someone else like that... letting someone touch _**me**_ like that...

I shivered inwardly and vowed never to conjure up such an image again.

The next day, I happened to meet gazes with Linda and she froze. I almost thought that she had realized that I was listening in on her confession yesterday until she relaxed and smiled at me normally and gave me a little wave. I looked away back down at my toys after noticing a very small blush on her cheeks. I might've blushed as well - from embarrassment from the memory of what my imagination threw up before-, if I had not already been used to concealing my emotions.

The years rolled by and nothing much changed... until Kira decided to make his first appearance in Japan. At first, everyone was sure that L would have handled this case no problem, but we were wrong. Kira was much more sly and cunning than we first anticipated, even outwitting L a couple of times. Wammy's house was getting panicky. Nothing like this had ever happened before- someone, _a criminal_, giving **L** a run for his money? It was a worrying thought and soon, Watari and Roger (the manager of the orphanage when Watari is not present) took matters into their own hands by summoning the best to aid L in the case. That included me, Mello and Matt.

Obviously, Mello was not at all jolly at the thought of working alongside with me, so he took Matt with him and fled to the town L was stationed in before Roger could protest. I was left to eventually travel to the same town in the end by myself. I was given a fully-staffed, fully-furnished house and personal direct connections to L and we worked together virtually though laptops, which brings us here today.

And like I said earlier on, I didn't know why I suddenly decided to talk a walk outside on my break despite my factual dislike for being under the sun. Well, technically, there wasn't much of a sun, really. One thing about this town was that it was almost always cloudy every other day, so I suppose being outdoors wasn't as agonizing as it should have been.

_Still..._

Faceless people. Senseless chatter. Unneeded noise. It was all very unnerving to me. Not to mention people kept autonomously turning their heads to stop and and stare at the 'strange white boy wearing pajamas' shuffling aimlessly down the street, going wherever his feet took him. Being the center of attention at the wrong time bothered me. Sad to say, it was rather hard being just another face in the crowd when I look like this, not that I could help it.

I soon found myself standing in front of a homely-looking coffee shop, scanning it up and down with my eyes before proceeding to enter it through the glass-door. A bell tinkled as I walked in and looked around. It was small, isolated and justperfect for me to _finally_ get away from those pesky stares that were starting to gnaw away on my nerves.

The insides of the tiny shop seemed to be one of a totally different world compared to the outside. Warm, beckoning and comfortable; the total opposite of the disturbingly frigid and awkward atmosphere I had faced back out there, and I was inwardly grateful for that.

My sneakers, relatively brand new and unused, made a slight squeaking sound against the wooden floorboards below me as I made my way to a seat, taking note that the place seemed ordinary to the extent where even customers were scarce. I sat down and thought about how people loved to stare at me so much.

People often stared. Or at least looked.

Of course they did. It was only a natural reaction to stare when you see something weird or out of the ordinary. And it wasn't like I was anywhere close to 'ordinary', anyway. I knew that I had pure white hair, along with skin so pale that it was almost like I never stepped took a single step into the sunlight in my life (this being almost true, since I made a point to stay indoors as much as possible when the weather was sweltering), not to mention my choice of attire. I liked wearing my white loose, over-sized blouse and baggy pants because they were comfortable, but apparently other people thought it was unusual for me to be wearing 'pajama-like clothing' outdoors.

I always considered staring to be a little rude. However, it was such a common occurrence that I had already learned to adapt to being stared at. It wasn't so bad after I had learned the useful skill of ignoring, which I had been practicing for so many years to the point that I could very easily pretend that the person I wanted to ignore was just mere specks of dust floating in the air, soon to be blown away by a breeze in the wind once I waited long enough. I didn't have time for idle chit-chat. I had more important business to attend to- such as completing my replica of the Eiffel-tower with the brand new sets of cards I had just bought.

So, as you can see, as much as it bothered me, staring wasn't much of a problem as long as I knew how to ignore the person initiating the act. People could stare all they liked. But as soon as I noticed in the corner of my eye a certain figure standing outside the wide-screen window of the coffee-shop...

I thought that maybe this was just _slightly_ over-doing it.


	5. Strangers Looking From A Distance

_"-Turn around. Turn around and fix your eye in my direction, so there is a connection. I can't speak, I can't make a sound to somehow capture your attention. I'm staring at perfection. Take a look at me so you can see how beautiful you are."_

**-Secondhand Serenade: Stranger**

**

* * *

**

Near watched from the corner of his eye as the stranger- _a young girl around his age; looked to be from Asian orientation, judging from her skin colour, long, black hair and focused chocolate-brown eyes, he quickly noticed in his head_ - stared right back at him from outside of the window. Ignoring was definitely hard to do when the girl was doing said act in such a obvious and maybe even _slightly_ disturbing manner. Her palms and face was mashed up against the glass window like she was trying to become one with it and it resulted in a rather constipated unglamorous-looking facial expression as she eyed him carefully. He blinked_, _confounded_._

_What on earth...?_

She was **definitely** staring at Near. No questions about it. She wasn't being shy about it, either. So, okay... maybe if he waited, she would get tired and go away. Usually that worked out quite well.

After a few minutes, the feeling of eyes still continued to linger on him, and Near could practically feel the weight of her stare crawling all over him like a dozen, tiny spiders, with no hope of stopping anytime soon. Personally, for whatever reason, it irked him to no end, knowing that the girl wasn't being affected by his 'ignore-her-and-she-will-go-away' method. He started to feel quite uncomfortable.

Finally having enough, Near did the unthinkable. He lifted his head up, turned his neck ever-so-slightly and looked back at the girl.

For a short, splitting moment, confused brown orbs grabbed gazes with questioning gray ones and the two stared at each other unmovingly for a fleeting few seconds before the owner of the brown eyes jerked away. Her face seemed to flood colour with a shade of embarrassment as she tore away from the glass window, bumping clumsily into a lamp post behind her and bumped the back of her head.

Near continued to watch in silent amusement as the stranger clutched her head in pain, uttered a few swear words under her breath before glancing up and flushing even deeper at his simple, even close to emotionless, gaze.

And when she finally remembered how to work her legs, she nearly whirled around and took off as quickly as her feet could carry her, soon disappearing into a crowd of faceless people.

Near stared right after, feeling as calm as ever, if not a little... _amused_.

* * *

_"My God, that was so embarrassing!"_ Michelle screamed in her head, heart pounding as she maneuvered herself through crowds of people, squeezing through to hurriedly get away from that coffee shop. She hadn't expected him to suddenly turn around like that and look back at her. Her face was still hot, heat radiating from her cheeks from the way he looked at her.

...Dear God, he had a really good-looking face. She couldn't really see it properly with his head turned away before, but when he looked at her, it was like the world around her stopped moving abruptly. She had to stop thinking... she _couldn't_ think.

Just like the rest of him, his face was also pale, but for some reason, it suited him. His lips were very slightly tinted with colour, and pursed into a questioning straight line. He didn't look very happy. In fact, recalling it now, it was almost like he was looking right through her. But still. He had the biggest, dark gray eyes that somehow were glossed with the thinnest layer of confusion. Those eyes were not naive or innocent-looking, yet stared at her with the curiosity of a child. Dull, yet clear and beautiful at the same time, they reminded her exactly of the eyes of a living doll.

When she finally got back to Rod's instrument shop, he was already waiting for her while reading the newspaper behind the cash register.

"Oh, hey, you're back! Saw anyone that caught your eye yet?" Rod looked up from his paper to grin at her as she burst through the door, her mind still rolling around in her thoughts.

He blinked and tilted his head to the side when she didn't reply him, constantly looking over her shoulder out of the window, as if watching and looking out for someone.

"Michelle...? Hellooooo?"

"-Huh? Oh, hi, Rod," Michelle finally snapped her head back and nodded a hasty greeting at him. She was breathing slightly heavier than usual and it showed along with the lingering colour on her cheeks that wouldn't seem to go away.

Raising a skeptical brow, Rod frowned.

"Riiiighttt... is everything okay? You kinda looked like you just saw a ghost or something..." He commented before glancing back down at the article he was reading. The paper rustled quietly and Michelle gulped, averting her gaze.

"...No, ummm..." She stuttered and nervously played with her fingers, glancing over her shoulder again, mumbling. "It's not exactly that..."

"Hm?"

Another mumble and Rod was staring at her like she magically grew a mustache and two chins.

"Can't hear you~," he sang and Michelle grunted uncomfortably.

"...I said, um, Rod..." She began again, and the brunette nodded his head in encouragement, flipping another page of _'Times Daily'_, as he drummed his fingers on the counter to an imaginary beat. "Do you think... that... angels really do exist?"

"Huh, what?" the drumming stopped and suddenly Michelle grew a mustache, two chins _and _another head. Was she being serious or was she just screwing around?

She frowned offensively at the way he was staring at her like some kind of freak-show, and crossed her arms over her chest. _Damn it, I knew he was going to think I was going crazy! ...Then again, maybe I already am. Maybe I was just seeing things or something and that guy was really just all a part of my imagination... well, that would be humiliating._

"Oh, forget I asked," she waved her hand, signally Rod to 'forget it', and started for the storeroom. "I'm going to finish cleaning up- something I was supposed to finish a long while ago before I was _so very rudely_ interrupted."

"No, wait," Rod instantly stood up from his chair and got in her way from going further. "Tell me about it. This sounds interesting. What did you mean by 'Do you think that angels really do exist'? You say a lot of weird things, kid, but this is one of the most random ones yet. So fill me in on what's up, and don't think you're going anywhere before you do."

"Nooooo! You always do this to me! Forcing things out of me against my will!" She complained, stomping her feet childishly as she pouted. "I don't want to talk about it! It's embarrassing..."

"All the more reason for me to squeeze it out of ya," he grinned cheekily, to Michelle's horror and leaned a hand on the counter. He blew some hair out of his face and gestured for her to spill the beans.

"Come on, sweetheart, I haven't got all day, ya know. And you know I won't stop bugging the crap out of you until you spill. So unless you want me poking your head like this and going, 'hey, hey, Michelle, teeeelll meeee~' for the rest of the month, I suggest you make do with the speaking, yeah?" He jabbed at her forehead repeatedly several times with his finger to prove his point, only to have his hand smacked away violently in irritation.

"I don't want to tell you," she continued pouting and looked away stubbornly. Rod snickered and grinned wider, now raising both of his index fingers to start attacking Michelle's head with a series of non-stop poking.

"OW! OW! HEY! O-ouch! QUIT IT! Cut it out! ROD!" she hissed, trying to fend off the attacking fingers. "RODNEY ANDREWS! You stupid bastard! If you don't cut it out right now, I'm going to..."

"Tell me~! Michelle, Teeell me~! You know you want toooo," he taunted and she covered her head with her arms, getting more and more peeved. She took a step back and he stepped forward, and she flailed, giving up.

"Okay, fine! I'll tell you, I'll talk, you asshole," she grumbled as Rod ceased fire with a satisfied chuckle. "Fucking hell... just like a little kid. I swear..."

"Yup. So tell me what happened the whole forty-five minutes you were out there, already. I'm _dying_ to know." he teased.

Brown eyes shifted to the side and a short mumble was heard.

"...Again with the mumbling," Rod sighed. "What was that again? I didn't catch it."

"...boy... coffee... shop."

"...a boy brought you to a coffee shop?" Rod translated and his face instantly brightened, raising his right hand in the air. "Alright! Your first date! Give me fiv-"

"NO! THAT'S NOT IT!" Michelle suddenly boomed in interruption, flailing her arms again, a blush easily reviving on her cheeks. She took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, scowling and looking to the side again. "...I saw this boy... at the coffee shop on 5th Avenue... and-"

"Oh, was he cute?" came the rude question and Michelle couldn't help but twitch again. She was _this _close to extending her right hand and slapping Rod silly. Still, she looked down at her feet and scowled.

"...Yeah... I guess... I mean, he had a really cute face and all... and he sort of reminded me of an angel..."

"Do you like him?"

"...No, it's not that." The image of those composed, doll-like eyes appeared in her head again, and she faltered slightly, growing redder. "F-for God's sake, I don't even know the guy! I mean, he looked really, really good and all, but all I did was like, stand outside the window and stared at him..."

"...like a stalker?"

"...I really should just slap you." the offended girl huffed and knitted her eyebrows together and Rod patted her head comfortingly with a lopsided smile. He hummed an amused tune and went back behind the counter to resume reading his paper again, pleased with being able to pry the information from her. Michelle sighed and shook her head, dragging herself to a nearby stool and plopping down heavily.

"Do you think I'll ever see him again?" she asked out loud, looking at her nails.

"If you want to, I think you'll be able to," Rod said kindly, smiling to himself. "and it sounds like you _really _want to."

This time, Michelle bobbed her head up and down in agreement, chewing on her lip thoughtfully. "...he was like... a beautiful stranger."

"You and your hormones," Rod laughed and earned a small glare. "Ahh, young love," he continued teasing and watched as Michelle stood up huffily to create some distance to escape his nonsense.

"Anyway!" he cupped his hand over his mouth and yelled at her from across the room, sitting up slightly. "If you really wanna see this dude again, maybe you should start getting your ass out more often and maybe go to this coffee shop during your breaks!"

Opening her mouth to shout back a reply, she suddenly paused and went into thinking mode. Michelle tapped her chin and blinked to herself while crossing over to where the storeroom was. That wasn't such a bad idea, actually. Maybe she would see that white boy again if she started to visit that place more regularly. If luck was on her side, she would most likely bump into him again. It was worth a shot.

"Although..." Michelle wrinkled her nose, picking up a fallen tambourine from the floor and giving it a few whacks to shake off the dust it collected. "...Coffee is still fucking _gross_... damn irony."

She placed the tambourine back on the shelf where it belonged, the bells jingling slightly as she tiptoed and pushed it back in so it wouldn't fall off again and walked around to see if the other instruments needed any tuning or cleaning up.

...For some reason, she couldn't stop thinking about when she would be able to meet her albino stranger again.


	6. Girl Meets Boy, Boy Meets Girl

_"-What's somebody like you doing in a place like this? Say, did you come alone, or did you bring all your friends? Say, what's your name? Whatcha' drinking? I think I know what you're thinking. Baby, what's your sign? Tell me yours, I'll tell you mine. Say, what's someone like you doing in a place like this?" _

**-Timbaland Ft. Katy Perry: If We Ever Meet Again**

* * *

I watched as the strange girl with brown eyes stumbled away in a hurry after knocking her head on the lamp post behind her. _A clumsy and rash move_, I noted in my head as she scurried off, vanishing from sight. I frowned to myself, wondering what that was all about. I decided to just shrug it off as another someone being a complete busybody. _Insignificant_. I pushed it out of my head dismissively, without a second thought.

After I felt like I was ready to move out of the shop, I got out and walked all the way back home, my brain flooded with thoughts about the current status of the Kira case. A few days before, I had contacted L virtually and we had a heated discussion about the case and what plans were to be made. In the end, it was decided that I would not take action unless it had truly gotten out of hand. While backup would've been helpful, L didn't want to involve anymore people in this than he already did, for the fear of risking more lives. So I was stuck in the sidelines, monitoring the case from afar for the time being and offering my opinion in the matter from time to time. It was an awful bore.

When I reached back home, I went straight for my bedroom and settled myself in an empty space in the middle of a large collection of toys that took up most of the room's floor. It was messy, but the closest thing to 'comfortable' ever since I left Wammy's. I was still busy adapting to my new 'home', but I didn't seem to be doing so well. The house was just too big and too empty, void of the familiar pattering footsteps of children running around recklessly in the hallways, and the chatter and laughter I had grown so used to hearing ringing in my ears after living there for so many years. It was a completely different environment.

There were about a little over a dozen members of my staff, every one of them adults ranging from their twenties to early forties, but all they did was take care of the cleaning, cooking and housekeeping. The only time I ever called for them was to either ask them a question or request for them to do something for me.

I sighed softly as I watched the colourful toy train chugged along the tracks I set up before, the battery-operated engine running and rumbling noisily in an attempt to mimic a real one.

To tell you the truth, I was a bit annoyed with L's decision and thought very well that I could handle the case as sturdily as he could. It disturbed me to think that he doesn't think that I was ready, even after years and years of training and studying. Still, L was my mentor and despite what I thought or how I felt about it, he undoubtedly had the final say. Bitter or sour emotions won't change the facts.

_"Patience is a virtue, Near. I expect that you are aware of that." _I remembered his exact words, his voice distorted by the voice-scrambler, but was without a mistake, firm. L_ knew _what he was doing, and I was in no position to challenge that.

But what was I suppose to do now? Sit here and rot amongst my toys? It was frustrating; I was summoned over for duty, yet, it was like I wasn't even needed.

With a resentful grunt, I flicked the passing train on my right and it fell over onto its side, the wheels still turning and rolling as the engine ran. With a small frown, I helped it up again and had it running along the tracks once more, a finger in my hair as I followed it with my eyes.

_...Something exciting better happen soon, or there will be a rather high chance of me silently going insane on the inside from this agonizing boredom._

* * *

The next morning came by, and still no news from L since our last meeting. For some unknown, illogical reason, I found myself wandering the streets once again, following the _exact_ same route I took yesterday afternoon. It was strange because I never used to have these unusual urges to go for walks. I didn't even _like_ walking.

This goes to show that sitting around doing nothing- _not even having something productive to think about_- has taken its toll on me. It's even causing me to do things that I don't normally do.

Soon, I found myself at the last place I was the day before, at the coffee shop on a street called 5th Avenue. I went inside and sat down at the same table and looked around uninterestedly. The place wasn't any more crowded than before, and didn't look like much of a popular destination for lunch, actually. I wondered why that was so, it was a pleasant enough place, granted a little small, maybe just enough for a full-house of fifteen to twenty people.

I sat in my chair and played with my hair, contemplating if I should order something, since it would be rude just to take refuge here without giving anything in return.

I picked up the menu on the round table in front of me and flipped it open, scanning the list for something I would actually drink. I was absorbed in thought when I suddenly heard a noise in front of me; a sound like somebody was coughing or clearing their throat.

When I lowered the menu to see who it was, I went slightly wide-eyed with shock, very nearly startling and losing my stoic expression when my own eyes meet another familiar pair of eyes. _Brown._

I couldn't help but stare wordlessly back at those eyes, menu drooping slightly from my grasp as she blinked back, looking from what I quickly identified as hopeful, nervous and unsure at one go. _  
_  
"Erm, Hello," the strange girl from yesterday squeaked and I just kept staring at her like she was some sort of alien life-form. "How do you do?"

When I didn't make a sound or movement, except for the bare quirk of my right brow underneath my bangs, she fidgeted slightly and my mind reeled. _Who is she? I am certain that this was the girl from yesterday, shooting me weird looks from outside the window. But for why? And what is the reason of her sudden approach? Could she possibly have a hidden motive of some sort? Did I do something to offend her? No. That is highly unlikely. I have not even spoken a word to her yet, nor do I plan to anytime soon, and my physical actions so far are completely innocent and not offensive at all. So... what does she want from me?_

My brain automatically flashed question after question, but I found myself unable to answer any of them. However, I could conclude that my stare was making her feel uncomfortable and hers was having the same effect on me as well, so I did the honors of looking down and shifting my attention back to the menu. _Just ignore her, she'll go away,_ I told myself.

Much to my disbelief- a_nd growing agitation_- not only did she **not** go away, she took my silence as a personal invitation to pull out a chair and sit at my table, across from me.

"...Yeah, so... Hi," she began reluctantly, adding more awkwardness to the already uncomfortable and tense situation. "Are you from around here? I mean, like, were you born here or something?"

_What on earth was she blabbering on about? What does it matter if I was born here or not? _I stayed quiet, half listening unwillingly to this odd person, half questioning to myself when she was going to get up and leave me be.

She kept at it, playing with her thumbs as her eyes rolled from side to side in this rather annoying, overwrought manner, "...I'm actually new here. I kind of just moved here about a month and a half ago, you know? So I don't really know this place that well... only this part of town, I guess. Any further up or down and I'd probably get myself lost," she laughed halfheartedly.

_So why don't you do just exactly that, then? _I found myself resisting the urge to twitch, her miserable attempt at engaging small talk or 'harmless chit-chat' with me gnawing at my nerves.

"I'm actually from Singapore. Have you heard of it? It's like this little island in South-East Asia. Kinda far, eh? It's a nice place, but I just think that it was too... stressful for me, so I moved here on my own... and I think I kind of like it here a lot!"

I am still not saying a single word. She was practically talking to herself. Can she not see what a fool she's making of herself? Does she not notice my lack of response? Is she not able to see the message that _I do not desire company_?

"Usually, I'd be at my part-time job right now around this time. But I just decided to take a break, come down here and have some coffee and just, chill, you know?'

"So I take it that you come here often?"

"Say, why do you have white hair, huh? I've been wondering that ever since I saw you yesterday. Oh, sorry that I was kind of rudely staring... it's just that I never saw anyone with white hair before. Well, someone so young that is."

"Speaking of which, how old are you?"

"And do you like coffee? I don't."

"...Oh. Wait. I just told you I came down for some coffee... err, never mind! Forget what I just said!"

The words and questions just kept on coming and coming, flooding my ears like a dam that had been destroyed. My patience and tolerance were wearing thinner and thinner by the second, even as I tried my best to keep an uncaring attitude. There was just something about her that _demanded_ my attention. Maybe it was the sound of her voice, or the way she was talking in that foreign accent of hers, or the way she kept moving around in her seat and throwing short glances at me, never keeping her gaze on me for long.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of non-stop self-conversing, when it was in fact only seven minutes and thirteen seconds in reality, she seemed to notice that something was amiss and stopped talking.

I was relieved. _At last... silence._

I thought that, at first, she got the message in the end, after all, even if she did take quite a bit of time. That, however, was not the case.

_Not. At. All._

"...Say," She stared at me the way an idiot would have stared, utterly transfixed at the sight of a hot flame burning on a candle and reached out to touch it, oblivious of the consequences. "Are you **mute**?"

The unbelievable question triggered the last straw. I slammed down the menu with more force than intended, and she jumped and watched me with widened eyes as I pushed out from my seat and got up, deciding that I had more than enough of this nonsense.

How could _anyone_ with even an _ounce _of brain cells possibly be **so dense**?

I shuffled away from the table and headed towards the door, but she followed me, much to my dismay, asking worriedly what was wrong.

What was wrong? What's wrong is that I cannot comprehend the stupidity of the world outside of Wammy's. In fact, I was put off by it. Revolted. Turned off. Offended. Disgusted. _Shocked into complete silence_, if you will, at the sheer brainlessness of this new community and its annoying little teenage girls. At least the girls back at Wammy's _knew_ when they were not wanted.

"H-Hey! Wait up! Where are you going? Did I say something wrong?" my unwanted company managed to catch up with me, despite my brisk shuffling. She came and joined me by my side with a concerned expression, clueless and dumbfounded. I paced the sidewalk quicker.

Dear God, this girl was like a _virus_. Could she not leave me alone so we can part and forever go our separate ways, hopefully to never cross paths again? When I said that I wanted something interesting to happen, I did not by all means meant sticking me into a situation like _this_.

"Um, I didn't mean to offend you!" _Too late. _"A-and, I'm not sure if it was because I called you mute or if it was something I said earlier on or not... but I'm sorry! M-maybe I'm just trying too hard...?" _I rather you not try at all, thank you._

All of a sudden, she halted in her steps, and I took the time to glance over my shoulder, stopping momentarily as well, for Heaven-knows-what reason. I should've just kept on walking forward and left her there.

"Oh, shoot! It's that late, already..?" She mumbled in realization after taking a look at her wrist watch. "I gotta get back to work or Rod will blow a fuse!"

It seemed as though someone had listened to the plea for help inside of my head and stopped the torture. She looked regretfully up at me and offered me an apologetic smile, as if I wanted her to stay in the first place.

"I have to run now, gotta get back to my job and all," she tittered and I blinked blankly, my face never showing any emotion. I didn't really care. Almost as sudden as she appeared, she spun on her heel and started sprinting the other direction, waving and yelling out to me, "I'll see you around, yeah? It was nice meeting you, Angel!"

_Angel? _I questioned mentally. Was that suppose to be some kind of insult or jab at me because of my whiteness? Mello, Matt and a couple of other kids back at the orphanage used to call me names like 'sheep', 'cottonball', 'snow white' or even 'ghost boy', but never have I've once been called an 'angel'.

I stood there and watched her disappear for the second time since I first laid my eyes on her and couldn't help but find her to be most abnormal. Nobody ever stuck to me so frighteningly close before, much less chase me down a street. Everything about that girl was weird and unpleasant. I have met many irksome people in the past, but none have managed to get me to react like that before.

It was extremely rare that I came that close to losing my cool, especially with someone I hardly even knew. It almost never happened. I had a reputation for keeping calm even in the most impossible situations, so this confused me a little. She must've been a special kind of annoying in the worst way possible. So clingy, block-headed and chatty and just... a _gigantic bother_ in conclusion. Trouble at its extreme. I _despised_ people like that with all my heart.

Despite all of that, I still couldn't get her last sentence out of my head, even as I made my way home and straight back to my room to amuse myself with my toys. It displeased me that I was probably thinking too much into it, but for some reason, it was on my mind for the longest time. 

_**"It was nice meeting you, Angel!"**_... Why 'Angel'? Perhaps she was just choosing a random nickname for me since I never told her my name, so she didn't know what she should call me by. Still, if that really was the case, why didn't she call me any of those other names like the others did?

...and would it be strange to say that I didn't mind as much as I should?


	7. Won't Stop, Can't Stop

_"-She doesn't care if he tries to ignore. He runs away, but still she follows. She'll try again, she likes to think that she'll get him in the end! Yeah! Can't you just go somewhere on vacation? I could book your flight and pack your bags, if you want. A one way ticket out of my life, watching you fly away. I never liked you! I never wanted you!" _

**-Simple Plan: Vacation**

**

* * *

**

_No way! This is just too coincidental!_

It never occurred to her that she would be seeing him again so soon. Yet, there he was, sitting at the same table in the same place he was in yesterday. Michelle could hardly believe her luck, or her eyes.

It was all _so_ perfect. He was just sitting there, browsing through the menu and oblivious to her presence... and existence. It wasn't his fault, though. The young Chinese girl had tried to make herself lesser known by hiding behind a plastic potted plant in the corner of the shop as she planned her next move, and it was working. She wouldn't lie; she did feel a _little_ like a stalker, watching him from a distance like this, but she hoped in her mind that it would all pay off in the end. For now, she had to think of a way to make a connection.

The boy proved to be even cuter up close and she just couldn't help what she did. She didn't know what came over her, suddenly having a random moment of confidence mixed with stone-hard determination take over her actions. It was the first time that she ever marched up to a complete stranger like that and it was making her palms sweaty and her heart pound like a drum several times louder than usual, the action causing the vibrations of the merciless beatings to travel up and down her bones. It was a miracle that she could even walk straight with her head feeling that light and airy.

However, from the second she said her first line, it all seemed to fall apart before it even really started. He just _wouldn't_ say anything! Not a word. Nothing at all. And the worst part was, she, herself, _couldn't_ stop talking, so it resulted in what Michelle would call _'an utter fuck-up'_, aka, a complete and total disaster.

She tried desperately to save herself, but she could see that it just wasn't working out right for some reason, especially when she eventually drove him to get up and leave. She was _horrified_. So much for a 'perfect' start.

_What did I do wrong?_ she asked herself in disappointment as she sat behind the cash register. Today did not go as well as planned. He seemed like such a difficult person to get through to, and frankly, it put her off slightly. But why? Was it something she did? Maybe she came on too strong. Maybe she was talking too much. But if she had kept quiet, wouldn't that be _twice_ as awkward? Although, not many people would really trust strangers so easily like that. But did that just mean that she didn't look trustworthy enough to talk to? But she was being as friendly as she possibly could without having a nervous breakdown! _Ughh!_

She banged her balled-up fist on the counter out of frustration, scowling a little.

...Maybe it wasn't her at all. Maybe it was him. Maybe he was just shy. _No that can't be it_, she ruled out that possibility in her head. Shy people don't act the way he does. She could clearly sense a superior air of arrogance and ignorance emitting from him. She was pretty sure he was just ignoring her on purpose.

Maybe he was just a _snob_. Maybe he knew that he was beautiful and that she had so hopelessly fallen into attraction for him and the reason that he was just waving her off like a pesky housefly was because she wasn't _good enough_ for him. Maybe that was what that was all about...

Michelle leaned over and propped her chin up with her palm, grudgingly blowing some hair out of her face nosily.

"If that's the case..." she muttered under her breath, her determination starting to burn again, six times hotter as before, her self-consciousness and worries drying up faster than a small puddle under the heat of a raging flame. An almost dangerous look glinted in her eyes, and some of the people in the shop were giving her freaked-out glances as she grinned to herself, "I'll just have to try even _**harder**_!"

She chuckled to herself, lost in her own world as a parent hastily dragged their staring and pointing toddler away.

...Oh yes. She _will_ get that boy to talk to her, no matter what.

* * *

He wasn't there at the coffee shop the next afternoon.

She didn't know where he went, or that he was even out at all in the first place. She tried checking in places close by to where the coffee shop was, but that didn't work out so well. All she achieved was looking like a frantic mother looking for her missing child who had wandered off on his own somewhere when she wasn't looking.

Michelle searched high and low, down streets, up roads, passed buildings, inside of stores. Still nothing. Three hours had passed since she first started and she was slowly starting to lose hope of ever seeing that boy again.

Until...

"...Seriously. There is no fucking way that this is _just_ a coincidence."

On her way back home, hands in her pockets and a deflated frown on her face, it just so happened that she decided to take the longer route home instead of the one she always used. One lucky turn of her head and something **white** caught her eye in the window of a toy store, communicating to a sales woman. _Hm. Hard work pays off in the end, after all._

* * *

"Are you certain that the WJK model no. 808 is no longer available?" a disappointed Near sighed softly as he twirled a lock of soft, white hair around his finger.

The sales woman shook her head apologetically and Near had to fight not to keep himself from sighing a second time. Today had been the day he had planned to get that new toy robot that he had so badly wanted. It was the latest model from a series of hot-selling toy figurines and they were selling out like hot cocoa on a cold winter's day. He had spent the whole day going from shop to shop and asking the same question over and over again, only to no avail. It was sold out everywhere. He tried not to sulk._ What a disappointment. This day could not possibly get any worse-_

"HEY IT'S YOU! I FINALLY FOUND YOU!"

_-I stand corrected._ Freezing on the spot from the sound of that voice- _that dreadful, dreadful voice_- Near had to grit his teeth together in order to stop himself from ripping out the lock of hair coiled around his fingers.

_Please let her not be referring to me. Please let her not be referring to me. Please let her not be referring to me. Please let her not be referring to me. Please let her not be referring to me..._  
_  
_"I knew I would find you if I looked hard enough!" a sparkly-eyed, overjoyed teenage girl joined him by his side, looking like she was full to the brim with happiness. "I've been looking everywhere for you, Angel! And man, it was getting really tiring... oh well. At least it worked!"

_Damn it. Damn it all. This has got to be some sort of joke. And whoever planned this ridiculous prank better be prepared to have their sorry posterior ready to be sentenced to a lifetime behind bars, as long as I can help it. _Near thought sourly and very slowly turned his head to force himself to double check that this walking nightmare was really there, and it just wasn't his overly bored mind playing tricks on him in the name of twisted entertainment.

When he looked at her, she beamed back brightly and he felt like running out of there as fast as he could.

_Did she said that she was looking for me everywhere? What is she? My self-proclaimed stalker? What reasons does she have for tracking me down? I don't even know her name! This is absurd! Utter nonsense._

"Um... sir?" the sales lady spoke up and Near was pulled out of his own thoughts and switched his attention over to her instead. "I'm really sorry for interrupting, but about the WJK robot, if I'm not wrong, the next batch should be arriving to town in about a month or so... or if you're lucky, it should be in slightly earlier. Would that be okay?"

_A month?_ Near sulked to himself on the inside. _That sounds so far away...although I suppose it's better than not owning it at all. Next time I'll make sure to be here on time. Tardiness does indeed lead to disasters, doesn't it?_

"WJK robot? What's that? A toy?" the girl beside him questioned, blinking at the sales person before turning to look at Near, who already started to walk away.

_Of course it's a toy, you imbecile. _He pushed the door open with one hand and stepped back outside, closely followed by the persistent stranger. _We're inside of a toy store, are we not? What else could they be selling here? This day is not going so well. I better return back home and have another look at those case files._

__"Where are you going now? Hey?"

"..."

_Shuffle.. shuffle..._

"Angel! HEY! Speak to me already!"

"..."

_Shuffle... shuffle... shuffle..._

"Oh, come on!" She whined, pouting as she stopped a foot and sped up to keep up with his brisk shuffling. "I _know_ you can talk! You were talking to that sales-girl, weren't you? So you're definitely not a mute or something."

_Yeah, well-done there, Sherlock Holmes. _

_Shuffle..shuffle..shuffle..shuffle..shuffle..._

"This is stupid!" She cried as he increased his shuffling tenfold, now itching to get away from her as quickly as possible. _No duh, _Near would have told her if he had wanted to grace her with his gift of speech.

**Step. Step. Step. Step.**

Shuffle... shuf- _Stop_.

A raised eyebrow and slightly widened eyes which quickly turned into a hard look, Near slowly raised his hand to the side of his head to habitually twist one of his locks while looking straight at the stubborn face of his 'stalker'.

She was standing directly in front of him and blocking his way, arms crossed and legs standing straight and parted confidently as she gave him what he assumed was an 'angry glare', which pretty much looked more like a 'childish pout', in any case.

There was a pregnant silence between them as they both started to stare each other down, daring the other to make a first move.

"..."

"..."  
_  
_After what seemed like hours into the awkward quietness, the girl finally heaved a defeated sigh and relaxed her stance, arms falling to her sides limply. Near continued twirling his hair wordlessly and watched her. _That was the first time she has ever kept silent for so long,_ he observed, the slightest bit amused as he scanned and studied her expression. _Has she finally given up?_

"God, what is wrong with you?" she grumbled exasperatedly, putting a hand tentatively to her forehead, her voice almost cracking with stress. "What is wrong with _me_? Do you have that much of a problem with me that you just refuse to have anything to do with me? Is that it, Angel?"

Near averted his eyes uncomfortably at the sound of the nickname she chose for him, but looked back at her with the same stony face he had on all of the time in the next second. He still didn't get why she kept calling him that, and it both bothered him and intrigued him at the same time.

_...She really looks put out. _He thought as she loosely hugged herself around the waist with tired arms and glanced to the side with a sad face. He felt himself soften the tiniest amount. _As... much as I hate to admit it, no one has really put in that much work into trying to get acquainted with me before... she doesn't even have a valid reason to. Surely... on some levels her efforts must be commendable...? _

He caught himself half-way and looked to the side as well, hand slipping from his hair. _No. I can't think that. Just because... just because I feel sorry for her, doesn't mean I have to give in and surrender to this childish game of hers. It's not good. I can't let myself think that way or I'll... I'll..._

_..._

___...Emotions are useless, _the quick reminder surfaced to his brai_n, _cutting all other thoughts into two. _They do nothing but blur judgment and cause illogical decisions. I don't need this. I just have to turn around now and start walking-_

"My name..." He raised his eyes to meet her gaze when she started to speak again, but this time in a softer voice that didn't bother Near as much as it did before. She looked at him to make sure that he was paying attention as she bit her lip softly and started again to finish her belated introduction, "..My name... is Michelle. Michelle Chua."

He stared at her in shock, tensing slightly at her simple words. Near was pretty sure that this particular girl... was either very, very, stupid or just too trustful. _What is she thinking? Giving her name out like that to a stranger so quickly? Hasn't she heard the news about Kira? Giving her name out like that would be considered as good as asking someone to stick a knife in her chest!_

_Unless that wasn't her real name and she was lying? _His brain countered quickly and he was set into contemplative mode. _In fact, what are the chances that this girl might even be an accomplice of Kira himself? L stated long ago that 'Light Yagami' is most definitely Kira, and his points and verbal evidences seem to suggest that as well, but what is stopping him from making more allies? For all I know, this girl might be one of them. It's not that unlikely... but then again, L has made sure that my identity is concealed from Light Yagami, so he couldn't have possibly known that I am involved in the case from behind the scenes as well...  
_  
"Hey, umm... is it okay if you tell me your name, too?"

_...she's asking for my name! That makes her sound quite suspicious, if not even more so than before. Could I be speculating and rashly jumping into conclusions, however? What if she just only wants to know my name to simply get more acquainted? ...What should I do? Actually, what kind of question is that? Why DO I have to get acquainted with the likes of her? She's so pesky! A better question would be, why am I just standing here like a buffoon and not walking off already?_

Michelle tensed as he turned away from her for what seemed like the hundredth time without answering her question, and her shoulders slumped down when he started taking the first steps in the other direction. He was leaving.

She fought not to let her emotions bring her down, the mass disappointment threatening to cause her downcast brown eyes to water up slightly. She knew she was being silly, and she did feel unreasonable and even a little annoyed with herself. It wasn't everyday that she teared up over a matter so small. _Then again, it wasn't everyday that I wanted to get to know someone so damn badly, either. Geez. I am such a fucking drama-mama. It's as if I'm letting my whole life walk away from me, right before my very eyes. Ridiculous! Tch. What the hell was I doing, anyway? I just can't FORCE people into becoming my friends like that! _She reasoned, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

_Now that I think about it, it was almost a bit creepy... okay, I admit, I was being super fucking creepy. And what did I expect? He knows he's too good for me... and I guess I know that too... a boy like him shouldn't even be seen with a girl like me. This is sad... why am I beating myself up over this? I should stop feeling sorry for myself. Sober up, Michelle! Life goes on, right? I'll just have to find someone more in my league, that's all!_

With that thought in her head, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans and smiled wryly at the white retreating back in front of her, trying not to be too upset.

"...Goodbye, Angel," she whispered just loud enough for him to catch and was about to go off her own way as well when the sound of shuffling stopped abruptly.

"Fourteen."

Michelle whipped around immediately. _What?_

"...h-huh...?"

Slowly, he looked over his shoulder with a look that seemed to stop her breathing. His dark, doll-like eyes seemed to be grabbing her by the throat and wrapping their gaze around it and squeezing so very tightly like some kind of vicious serpent.

"...Fourteen," he repeated firmly.

"Y-you're speaking!" Michelle squeaked when she finally realized where that voice came from and raised a finger to point at him, unable to think or do anything else.

_HE'S NOT MUTE AFTER ALL, I KNEW IT! I KNEEEEEW IT! HE JUST DIDN'T WANT TO TALK TO ME, THAT'S ALL! THAT BRAT! OH MY GOD, I DON'T KNOW IF I SHOULD BE MORE PISSED OR HAPPY! I SHOULD SMACK HIM OR HUG HIM...OR BOTH! YEEEEeeess... but that would be rude. C-calm yourself, you stupid motherfucker. And speak! Don't be a damn moron! You've been doing that enough for the past few days!_

He nodded but said nothing else, observing as Michelle tried not to look as if God had descended from the heavens, riding a golden, glowing unicorn to deliver her a bouquet of heaven-brand roses himself. _  
_  
"W-why..?"

He shrugged.

"...are you going to say anything else?"

She was confused. She was even more confused when he shook his head- _no_- and repeated the only word he ever said to her again.

"Fourteen."

"...what?"

_Fourteen WHAT? HE ISN'T MAKING SENSE! Is he indicating my age or something? Or is he telling me his? But why the fuck would he do that? ...He's really weird. Seriously. Like not just his looks, his attitude too. Honestly speaking, I have never met a kid with such a punk-ass, pain in the butt personality before- but... you know what? I kind of... like it... at the same time, for some reason. I just thought he would've been... nicer, you know? like how angels are SUPPOSED to be... or imagined to be. But.. but this is fine! This is great!_

_His voice sounds so gooooddd... even if he's just saying 'fourteen, fourteen' over and over again. He sounds so young. Yet his tone is low and hushed, and mellowed out. It's whisper-y and so smooth sounding and- fuck. I'M BEING CREEPY AGAIN!_

After giving herself a punch in the face or two mentally, she tried her best to smile normally at him, and he blinked blankly.

When she opened her mouth to say something else, she was cut off by the sharp, beeping sound of an alarm going off on her digital wrist watch, signally that it was time to go. Again.

"...WHAAAT? IT'S ALREADY SO LATE? DAMN IT! NOT AGAIN!" Michelle gawked at the time and slapped a hand to her forehead at her carelessness. She was going to have to hear Rod preach about her tardiness again, for the seventy-second time.

"I-I'm sorry we have to leave things like this, Angel, but I have to get back to work... I'm late again! Er, I'll see you around somewhere, yeah? Don't look for me, I'll look for you! CIAO!"

He tilted his head side-ways at the rush she was in but said nothing as she ran off with a big smile stretching her face, even though she knew she was going to be in trouble when she got back. It felt good and she was letting it take control.

_**TRIUMPH**__! Bwuhahahaha!_


	8. Acceptance

_"-Like a splinter in my thumb, you're not going anywhere, not like I care, cause I have got used to it. Refuse to quit. You're like the label in my shirt, that keeps scratching at my back then I forget, because I've grown immune to it. Go figure it. Knew you were trouble back then, but that's what turned me on. It's all wrong..." _

**-Ashley Parker Angel: Crazy Beautiful**

* * *

I didn't know why I did what I did.

It was the boredom's fault, probably. It was taking over the logical and rational portion of my brain and infecting it like a disease sent out to destroy the healthy cells and leave me brain-dead of the rest of my life.

No, I'm exaggerating. Don't listen to a word I'm saying. It's the boredom speaking once again. It's really difficult to get a hold of myself these days, and I think I just miss having something to occupy myself with. So I decided to engage myself with this... this... _being_.

She told me that her name was Michelle Chua, and although I doubted her truthfulness at first, I now know that she's not at all bluffing. When I went home after our second encounter, I did some research and looked around for any connections Light Yagami might have with a person called 'Michelle Chua' and found none. Then, I requested for permission from the neighborhood police station to view the profiles of each and every single person living in this town and soon enough, her name popped up.

Michelle Chua, age 14, born on the fifteenth of April, year 1995. Apparently, that was her real name and she wasn't lying when she told me that she came from Singapore, either. I didn't know if I should be more surprised at the fact that I managed to remember her telling me that, or that I'm the one acting like the stalker now instead of her. See the crazy things boredom do to you?

I shut down my laptop after I found out what I wanted to and crept off to get some sleep. It was getting late and I was feeling a little drowsy after all that moving around I did.

I couldn't help but think about her constantly now, since there really is nothing else for me to think about. This strange, loud, noisy, clingy, emotional person... how is she going to affect my lifestyle? I couldn't help but wonder.

...Don't get me wrong. I still don't like her. Just because she's on my mind so much doesn't mean I _had_ to take a liking to her. In my opinion, she still was dumb as a brick. Perhaps a little wrong in the head as well, to boot. How many people in existence become infatuated with you just from one, small look? _Insanity_. Pure madness.

But now that I know her name... she's became an acquaintance, yes? I climbed onto the bed and reached for the blanket as I thought about it. I pulled the blanket up and allowed my head to rest on the soft pillow. An acquaintance... meaning that she's officially a part of my life now.

_Just a very minuscule... unimportant... part of my life..._ I yawned and closed my eyes, getting more and more sleepy._ I probably wouldn't even see her in the following week, would I?_ Those were my last thoughts until I finally dozed off.

...It's a pity. I really _did _wanted to get that WJK robot today...

* * *

You know what they say about life? That it's extremely unpredictable? I think I can easily vouch for the truth behind those words. Only one week has past and I have bumped into Michelle, not one more time, but_ twice_ this week. The town isn't even that small, for God's sake, so I really wonder if she has been stalking me for real. The idea of it all being a reoccurring stroke of 'luck' or 'coincidence' remains to sound rather unpromising to me, and even if it did turn out to be that case, _what sort of foul-tasting luck is this?_

Our third meeting was in the national library, where I decided to pick up on some reading. I was just innocently sitting in a corner when suddenly; _"BOO!"_ she tried to startle me by springing up out of no where in front of me.

Well, it didn't work and she was a bit disappointed and I was not very amused by the sudden change of events. She then, like always, made herself at home by inviting herself to join me in my reading.

"What a thick book! What are you doing reading up on German history?" she asked, gesturing to the book laid out right in front of me. "You must be really bored or something..."

I knew that was a fact, but I didn't say anything to agree with her. But I didn't quite ignore her this time, either. Instead, I sat and stared at her, wondering what other rubbish she had to say. One thing I've learned about Michelle so far is that she talks about _anything and everything_, be it the weather, animals, her feelings, _what she thought_ were my feelings, wood, metal, plastic, what was on television last Friday night, the reason why the world is round... I wouldn't have been surprised if she started to choke up facts about Hitler that I didn't know about.

"Did you know that Hitler, before he became all powerful and in command and stuff, was rejected from an art school and he had to sell postcards on the streets to make a living after that because he was crap at everything else he did? ...and he only had one testicle."

"..."

I had looked at her with probably the most emotion I had ever used in awhile-_puzzlement, amusement and disgust._ For the love of everything that is good and pure, woman, if you want to tell me random nonsense, can you at least tell me something that won't possibly traumatize me or give me constant nightmares? I just happen to enjoy sleeping, unlike L, if you must know.

"You know, I wanna be a writer when I grow up... and publish a book."

Ah, that was a lot better. But still random. A writer? That's interesting, I guess. I wouldn't have imagined someone like her to like writing- or reading, the way she was manhandling the book I was previously reading.

"...if you chuck this at someone's head, you could kill people!" she gasped childishly, clearly amused at the thought, and lifted the book up and down with her hands, struggling slightly with the weight, since it was indeed quite a lengthy piece of work.

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes and prevented myself from making a snide remark about her actions.

If she wasn't going to be more careful with that book, she's going to hurt herse-

"OW! FUCK!" she cursed harshly when she expectantly dropped the book and it landed on her foot. I cringed at the vulgar language she was using and scowled openly to show my distaste, but the goon was too busy babying her injured toe to notice.

I bent over to pick the book up, a little more concerned for it rather than my company who seemed to be tossing ungrateful glares in my and the book's direction, grumbling things under her breath about how she's finding it demeaning that I care about an inanimate object rather than her well-being. _It's not my fault she deserved it for being so clumsy.  
_  
My conclusion of all the traits Michelle had so fair? Loud, talkative, clumsy, desperate, emotional, bizarre, irrational, crude, unsophisticated, shameless, immature and, of course, moronic. _  
_  
I don't know why I even bother. She was a breathing natural disaster who was going to bring me nothing but trouble. Yet, at the end of the day...

"You know, you haven't said anything for the whole day... not even 'fourteen', this time. Have you decided to go back to being a selective mute again?"

"Five."

"Hm? Another number? ...Five? What does that mean?"

I turned away without answering and left her standing there in the library, looking confused with that heavy history book clutched tightly in her hands.

* * *

The fourth time was when I returned to that toy store to see if they had gotten any fresh stock of the toy I wanted yet. No such luck. It was just too early, and we were no where near a month.

The news had put me in a bad mood and I was sulking to myself as I stepped out of the store. This time, I was the one who technically ran into her first, instead of the other way round. _Literally._

I had been deep in thought and was looking in another direction, and had to steady and stop myself from stumbling and falling over when I bumped into something solid. The thing- _or in this case, person_- I collided with, however, was not so fortunate.

"Oof!" the voice I was getting quite accustomed to hearing cried as she got the wind knocked out of her in surprise from the sudden push. She fell frontwards and was flailing her arms wildly before landing on her knees. "...Shittt, that huuurts!"

I stood there, a curled finger to my mouth, eyes enlarging a little, as I took a step back, not really knowing what to do. I never injured a person before nor have I been so careless to bump into one, so I was unsure of how I should respond to this situation.

I could only stare as she slowly helped herself back up onto her feet, dusting her clothes off unhappily with her hands before whipping around with a scowl and a glare, "Watch where you're going, will yo- Angel?" Michelle stopped mid-growl and lucky enough for me, her anger seemed to drained away at the realization of my presence for some reason.

I nodded my head at her in greeting, still a little worried of the accident I just brought about. My eyes wandered downwards to her kneecaps, and I noticed they were slightly scraped up, raw and red in colour from her fall and I applied pressure against my lips with my finger. Truth to be told, I didn't know why I cared, but the sight bothered me horribly. I didn't appreciate being the blame of an accident.

I think she could distinguish how I was feeling from my awkward body language, since I still had on a mask of indifference, and she followed my gaze to look down at her injuries. Was she still pissed? I knew I would be.

"...Oh. Don't look so worried, Angel. It's alright," she brushed off casually with a reassuring grin when she got the message, "I hurt myself all of the time, so this is nothing new. Plus, it really isn't that painful, so you don't have to look so concerned." _What? She was willing to forgive me just like that? ...Strange._

"Why do you look so taken aback?" she chuckled and I stared more at her. "I told you, it's okay. Really. It was just a tiny accident, and you don't have to feel bad about it. I can tell by your reaction that you're not used to this, are you? It's fine, I'm willing to forgive and forget, so you should too- where are you going?"

I made for the other direction quickly, and she started to follow after, but I turned around to hold a hand up at her in a stop sign, signaling her to wait for me there. Somehow, my signal got through and she obediently halted in her steps and did what she was told.

I returned approximately five minutes later from a convenience store nearby and I was relieved when I saw her still there in the distance, sitting on the side walk, watching cars speed by on the road distractedly.

"You're back!" Michelle smiled brightly, seeming to be delighted at my return and I gave her a mute nod once again to acknowledge her words. She watched me in question as I reached for something in my pocket and produced two plasters. "Oh...?"

We both remained quiet as I peeled off the cover of the plasters and directed her to stretch out her legs so I could help her apply them to her wounds. When I was done, I raised my head to look up at her. Her smile had expanded and upon the sight of it, I felt the need to avert my eyes.

"Angel..." she spoke, and I twirled my hair, almost feeling self-conscious. I didn't want her to think that motion meant anything. I was merely taking responsibility for my actions, that's all. It wasn't like I _cared_ about her or anything of that sort. _Certainly not_.

She chuckled and I was wondering what was so funny until she pointed to her knees in amusement. "Why did you get me these plasters? What the hell? They're pink and have Disney Princesses on them! I'm fourteen, not six, you know!" she laughed and tenderly fingered the image of _Cinderella_ on her right kneecap.

I found myself pouting slightly at her amusement. How was I suppose to know that she would find that to be funny? I was always under the impression that girls liked that sort of stuff. Really, she should be more grateful that I got her anything at all.

She managed to smite her giggles and told me "thank you" before she reached out and patted me warmly on the head.

At the sound of her words and the feel of her contact, I jerked backwards almost instantly, as if her hand had been a hot iron and scrambled onto my feet, feeling a sudden warmth rushing to my cheeks. _What did she think she was doing? Showing me affection like I was some kind of cute, little kid?_

I glared at her, unamused and tried to control the small, embarrassed blush that had appeared on my face while I rubbed my head self-consciously, as if that would've erased what she had done.

I huffed a little and decided to take my leave, a small stomp in my step, hearing her being to chuckle once again as she gingerly helped herself up off the sidewalk.

"Hey, Angel! No number today?" She called out chirpily and I just kept on going and mumbled something under my breath. Somehow, she had managed to catch me despite the low tone I was using.

"...Number One, you say? Alright then. I'll see you again, whenever! Thanks again for the plasters!" I heard as I went around the bend.

* * *

I am deathly unhappy with this outcome. Apparently, the robot that I had wanted _did_ end up coming in about a whole two weeks earlier than expected, but I had missed out on its arrival once more.

I'm beginning to think that I'll _never_ get it. Maybe it's just one of those things you want so badly but fate does not allow you to have so it can laugh at your misery.

Reality is cruel.

I grumpily plopped onto the park bench in front of the lake and watched as a mother duck and her ducklings waddled pass near the yellow ducklings follow their mother closely as she hopped into the water with a splash.

Unconsciously, I related what I saw with a certain Chinese girl who kept chasing me around no matter where I went. Yesterday day was the fifth time I saw her and it was when I was having lunch in a nearby cafe. It was just my luck that she was having lunch there as well.

...but I don't know. When she spotted me and waved her hand for me to come over, I obliged without much thought. I didn't even mind all that much when she was chattering away the whole time while we had our meals. I must've gotten used to it by now. In fact... I think I might have even enjoyed listening to her. Just a _little_. Once I really paid attention to what she was talking about, I found that what she said actually _made sense_, albeit the random topics.

When I left, I gave her the number Eighteen.

It was weird that my opinion of her changed so abruptly, possibly after that incident where I made her fall. I guess it was then when I started to deduce that she wasn't just chalk full of negative traits.

She was admittedly... _nice_. And I had a feeling that she wasn't someone you could push around either, the way she almost snapped at me, assuming that I was a stranger- although I didn't know why she stopped herself when she recognized me. So she was headstrong, as well. She was always bubbly and cheerful- something I'm not so sure of, however. I don't know what to think of people who were always like that. It was like they were too dense to see the downside of life. But I suppose in another point of view, that would be considered a good thing...

_...If only she wasn't such an idiot..._

"ANGEL! ANGEEEEL! I'VE BEEN LOOKING LIKE HIGH AND LOW FOR YOU!"

Speak of the devil. I looked over my shoulder and saw the girl sprinting up to me from up the pathway, swinging a plastic bag in her hand as she grinned. She was out of breath by the time where she reached to where I was and wiped the sweat off her forehead as she sat down heavily beside me, panting.

"I-I s-swear..." she breathed, wrinkling her nose at me accusingly, "You should just tell me w-where you live already to save me the trouble..."

_Silly girl,_ I thought in my head as I waited for her to calm down. _If I did that, then what kind of stalker would you be? You're supposed to find out where I live all by yourself. Such a lazy person. Now, I wonder what is so urgent this time...?  
_  
"Aaaanyway... I got something for you~!" Michelle grinned some more and shoved the plastic bag she was carrying into my arms. She nodded at it and then at me as she slumped a little from exhaustion, telling me to open it._  
_  
With a stoic expression, I stared down at the bag until I deemed it safe and not going to explode in my face before taking out whatever was inside. When I saw what was inside, I froze.

...How on EARTH did she get this...?

My lips parted in awe as I examine my gift with a mix of speculation and astonishment. It was neatly packaged, still in it's box and most definitely spanking brand new and freshly bought off the market. _But how_?

"The WJK model no. 808... robot toy thinger..." she sat up straight, looking at me and probably taking in the look on my face. "Wow. You must've wanted it REALLY badly. That's the most emotion I have seen you expressed since I first saw you. You're such a geek." She sniggered and I would have glared at her if I had bothered paying attention to that comment.

She must have known that I wanted answers because she shrugged and smiled at me, "Actually... I went to that store to ask about what the WJK thing was all about, and the lady explained to me that it was some kind of limited edition toy that was selling out really quickly. I put two and two together and figured that you must have wanted that toy... so I went there really early for like, what? Everyday? And asked for it... and don't look at me like that. I'm not as crazy as I sound, I promise!"

I shifted uncomfortably, not knowing why she would do something like that for me, if all I had ever been was nasty, cold and unfeeling towards her right from the start. A feeling of guilt suddenly overcame me as I thought back on my behavior.

I didn't understand why _anyone_ would continue to be so friendly to someone like me.

"...You're not a bad person, Angel," I was stunned once again. She seemed to be able to see right through me. Nobody has ever done that before. How could that be, though? I'm quite sure that my face is still as close to unemotional as I could possibly managed. She was giving me feelings of unease again.

"...You really aren't." She told me, smiling slightly at the way I was clutching my gift tightly in my hands and staring at her, intrigued. "I can tell, you know. No bad person would give an injured person plasters. And I'm not stupid, really, even though you probably have been thinking that since you first met me, haven't you?"

"..."

"You severely disliked me from the start," she pointed out bluntly before continuing. "I'm not that much of an idiot to haven't notice that. That was why you took it upon yourself to ignore me and even though you can talk, you just refused to even speak even a sentence to me. I'm fine with that. I'm just glad that you stopped running away when you see me and that you actually bother to spend at least some time with me."

"Also, I think I figured another thing out. I've been putting a lot of thought into it; the numbers you gave me every time you leave... I just have to check something first so I can prove my theory... do you still have any more numbers to give me?"

I shook my head to indicate no and she nodded away, looking frontward to the lake.

"...You gave me four numbers. **14, 5, 1, 18. **According to the alphabet, 14 is equivalent to the position of the letter '**N**', 5 the letter '**E**', 1 the letter '**A**' and 18 the letter '**R**'."

She turned back to me.

"... N, E, A, R. _**Near**_," Michelle was facing me now, eyes focused intently on my own as she whispered my alias out loud. "Near... what does that mean..?"

My hand traveled to my hair and I caught a lock and twirled it out of habit. My gray eyes were glinting in amusement and the side of my mouth tilted upwards into a smirk. I spoke clearly and smoothly.

"It means, Michelle Chua, that you do not appear as stupid as I first assumed for you to be. I apologize for that. Hello, there. My name is Near. It's a pleasure meeting you- _no_. It was a pleasure _having met_ you, Michelle." I corrected myself, the smirk still playing on my lips as her jaw dropped wide open.

She didn't say anything at all for the few first minutes. Just stared at me as if I were a dream. I chuckled softly and told her that it would have been nice if she would have been this quiet all along.

She pouted at my comment, narrowed her eyes angrily, and then burst out laughing.

_...Truly an enigma. _


	9. The First Signs Of Awaited Disaster

_"-I wrote this for my prettiest friend. But while trying not to prove that I care. I was trying not to make all my moves in one motion and scare her away. She can't see that she's making me crazy now. I don't believe that she knows she's amazing how she has me holding my breath, so I'd never guess that I'm a none such unsuitable, suited for her."_

**-Jason Mraz: Prettiest Friend**

* * *

_**Pure opposites; **_both of them could have been very well the epitome of it.

They were such a mismatched pair. Anyone would have a hard time believing that they got along.

The first one was cold, steely, harsh, slow in movement, skeptical and composed; a living mannequin. The second one was warm, friendly, open, almost always bouncing off the walls, gullible and exaggerated; sunshine trapped in a bottle.

To him, she was a slow motion accident on repeat.

To her, he was a living doll wearing a frown who needed nothing more than a little love.

With him, he felt obliged to try and prevent her from falling into countless tragedies and mishaps time and time again.

With her, she felt obliged to try and get him to loosen up a little and stretch his limbs, kick back and enjoy the ride while throwing caution into the wind.

He wanted distance. She wanted to get closer.

He felt unsure about what he was doing. She enjoyed the uncertainty and followed its path like an excited adventurer.

He was confused about this growing bond. She hadn't felt more sure about something for such a long time.

Soon, he accepted her. Soon, she was more than glad to make him the highlight of her day, everyday.

One day passed, they were one boy and one girl. Two days passed, they were strangers. Three days passed and they were acquaintances. A week passed and they knew each others' names. One and a half months passed and they were frie-...

"Friendship is irrelevant." Near commented bluntly.

"...Did you even _have _a friend before?" Michelle frowned in disbelief. The weather was nice that day, and the two were sitting near the lake on a patch of dry grass, sharing a bag of bread to feed the fishes in the lake. White clouds drifted lazily in the blue sky, and for once, it didn't look like it was going to start thundering any second.

The reason why they always chose to come to the park more often than any other place was because of pure consideration other on Michelle's part. After spending more time around the socially-handicapped albino, she learned that if she wanted him outside, the only places he would agree to follow her to would be peaceful, quiet places where there was as little human life as possible.

Kids were riding their bikes or rollerblading, adults were having picnics on the fields and the elderly were bird-watching or chatting on wooden benches. On such a pleasant day, it wasn't a surprise that other people had the same idea of spending some time in the park, but the lighthearted atmosphere there was always so serene and relaxing, and therefore acceptable enough for Near to get comfortable.

"No... but I can safely say that I won't die without any." Near stated factually as he brushed off some loose grass blades sticking to the underside of his sleeve. "I have been living fifteen years without one and I am still alive and kicking, am I not?"

"...You have gotta be kidding me! So, what am _I_ to you?" Michelle questioned and Near gave a light snort before shrugging once.

"I'm not very sure, actually. You're just... Michelle. The trouble-maker who declared herself a part of my life involuntarily."

"Oh, shut up, you."

"Hn, that wasn't very polite of you. Why are you always so rude?"

"Why are you always so critical about _everything_? What's wrong with you? Did someone break your heart or something?"

"I believe that that particular organ in my chest is still functioning with no problem."

"Haha, very funny. I can see why you're so popular now... women must_ looove_ you."

"Now, that's just being offensive and insulting... not to mention low. And contradictory since I believe _someone_- now, I'm not going to mention any names but I believe you know her very well, Michelle- tried so very hard to be my personal stalker. Have I mentioned that she failed miserably?"

"Be my friend, Near," Michelle deflected his sarcastic remark with a passionate request, scooting over to him comically. He leaned away with a look of discomfort and begun to play with his hair with a frown.

"_No_. I don't want to. I see no good reason to."

"To make a lovely, cute girl happy?"

"..._What_ lovely, cu-"

"DON'T YOU EVEN GO THERE!"

Near had turn his face to the other side to hide his smirk as he twirled his hair more. The argument stubbornly continued.

"Be my friend."

"No."

"Be my friend!"

"No."

"Be my frienddddddd..."

"No."

"Please?"

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Because friendship is irrelevant, I told you already. You really should listen more-"

"Then, let me be your irrelevant friend." Michelle interjected thoughtfully, crossing a leg over the other. "If you must believe that friendship is irrelevant, that's fine. But even if it's irrelevant, that doesn't mean you can't have it. A lot of people have a lot of things that they don't need."

Near sighed but kept his poker face straight, finding no point in arguing any more. "There's just no use in trying to talk you out of it, is there?"

"Nope." She threw a big piece of bread into the water and the surface broke into ripples as the fish swam around the food, nibbling at it eagerly.

"Why do you want to be my friend in the first place? Nobody really offered me such a proposal before..." he bent down to throw a handful of bread crumbs into the lake and watched as a school of small, colourful fishes gobbled them up hungrily.

"Maybe you should try and stop bashing people around with sarcastic, witty, smartass remarks and then see what happens. And talk more. And play with toys less. And smile more. And- no, I'm joking. I like you just the way you are." She chuckled when she spotted the scowl growing bigger and bigger on Near's face, just daring her to go any further.

"I really do like you." She told him honestly with an earnest smile, and made a bold move to sling her arm innocently around his small shoulders. "So will you be my friend?"

Near stiffened at her action, looking at her arm around him with slight panic. He did not go well with contact, and Michelle already knew that. He cursed her inside of his head when he saw her grinning away in another direction to avoid eye contact on purpose, probably having predicted what he would feel like.

His breathing slowed down from the foreign weight on his shoulders and he stared at her arm again like it was some bizarre creature going to eat him. Her arm felt heavy around him. _But... it also felt... good?_

_**What was this?**  
_

She hummed away in feign innocence and pretended to be interested in a drake waddling towards the lake on the other side. "Well, Near?"

The poor boy was at a small lost of what to do. He opened his mouth, intending to scold her, but the first word he tried to say was already hard to get out. He just couldn't think with her touching him like this. He was never good with physical interaction and this was very similar to a violation of personal space on his part. She was too close... _so close._..

When he didn't reply, Michelle grinned wickedly and pulled him in even _closer_, and he almost gasped when she let his head rest on her shoulder. She was so disturbingly close that he could have practically smelt her. His usually dull, uninterested eyes were now wide open in shock and tension, a blush making its merry way onto his pale face as he concentrated on the distracting physical contact. _S-so... warm..._

"Near?" she tried again, this time even daring to place a finger on his reddening cheek, trailing down his skin in a painfully slow fashion, causing goosebumps to crawl across his flesh. Her tone was playful. "Nearrrrr... Near-kun, I'm asking you a question~. It's rude to keep people hanging~. Will you be my friend or not?" Michelle sang.

"S-s-speak for yourself..." he finally found a way to talk, but his words were jittery, nervous, shaky and he could hardly recognize that the voice that was speaking was his own. What was wrong with him? What happened to his apathetic display that he had been practicing for all his life? It couldn't possibly have just dissolved into nothingness from a simple, mere touch of a single girl. What killed him even more was knowing that the deepest, smallest part of him was apparently enjoying this new sensation. "Y-you're the rude one, Michelle. Release me. You are molesting me."

"N-n-n-not until you a-answer me," she mocked and he twitched. Then pouted.

"Fine, f-fine! I'll be your friend. Just... get away from me," he spat at her and ripped away from her grasp, stumbling slightly in his escape. "And don't you dare do that ever again without my permission." He lectured, trying desperately to murder his blush, showing her a sharp look.

"You liked it," she teased and he would've kicked her if he hadn't enough self control. "But yay! That means I finally accomplished what I've been wanting to do since I first laid my eyes on you now!"

"What? Molest me?"

"No, stupid! I meant make a friend. You know, I was on a mission to make a friend that day I saw you, and when I did see you, I just knew that I had to be friends with you...You were _perfect_."

The blush came back and she flashed him a close-eyed smile before turning to watch the local family of ducks swimming pass across the body of water, the tiny, quaking ducklings forming a train behind their mother as usual. "Look, ducklings!"

Near rubbed his arm up and down and discovered back his indifference, his face morphing back to its usual look, the embarrassment and awkwardness gone now that he was free of her touch. He looked to the ducklings as well, one of them shaking their feathers dry, puffing up cutely.

"...They remind me of you." He commented randomly and didn't notice when Michelle tensed.

This time, it was _her_ turn to go red.

* * *

"Sooooo close! Yet sooooo far! It's tearing me apart~! What I would do to be back with you~! I promiiiiiise! It's tearing me apaaaart! NO MATTER HOW FAR AWAY I GO, I'LL COME BACK FOR YOUU!"

"You're in a good mood today," eyed Rod suspiciously as Michelle spun pass him, singing along to the song that was playing on the radio.

"What are you talking about? I'm always in a good mood these days." she raised her eyebrow at him and continued to sing to herself, spinning around in dramatic circles. "What I would do... what I would do! What I would do to be there with you!"

"...Yes. But that's what I'm suspicious about!" He kept his eyes on her and suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders to stop her from moving. "You've been acting like you've won a million dollars ever since you met that boyfriend of yours-"

"HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!" She reacted quickly in defense, skidding immediately to a stop, looking ready to argue his statement.

"YOU LIKE HIM. FACE IT. DON'T BE DIFFICULT. EMBRACE IT." Her boss boomed back with twice the influence, making her tilt back slightly and stare at him with big eyes. "Denial gets you nowhere!"

"...but I'm not denying anything..." she started off in a meek voice, honestly a little frightened. _Who knew Rod could be so scary...?_ "...I-"

"You are denying everything! You are denying your feelings! You are denying love! _**LOVE**_, MICHELLE!" He let her go and dramatically pointed out, his hands swinging here and there to empathize his words.

"...But I-"

"Look, sweetheart, I know that it's tough. Everyone has their first crushes and they get all confused and scared to death and shit. But trust me! You'll get over the fear and sooner or later you'll be romancing more than how the people in Paris do it!"

"...Rod, I-"

"Look. It's clear that you like this guy very much, whoever he is. You were so infatuated that you started following him around wherever he went. You called him an 'Angel'. You got up at 7.30 in the morning for a week _just_ to get him a toy as a gift when he was treating you like crap. You talk about him like, all the time! YOU EVEN DOODLE HIS NAME IN LITTLE HEARTS ON MY SONG SHEETS!" He accused, snatching up a few papers with Near's name written all over inside of pink and red hearts. Michelle hastily snatched said song sheets back, yelling, _'give me that, you freak!'_ as Rod stuck his nose up in the air unrelentingly. "You. Like. Him."

"..."

"Have I convinced you yet?"

"...Rod." Michelle pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head from side to side and sighed heavily like he was missing something really important. It was right there in his face. "...I already _**KNEW**_ that I liked him from the very start, you idiot!"

"W-what..?"

"Seriously! I did! I knew I had a crush on him since he started talking to me. At first, I thought it was just excitement, but the thing is, it didn't wear off, so I guess I _am_ crushing on him. And by the way, this isn't my first crush. I had crushes back in Singapore before... but they were all on girls."

Rod made a face. Michelle made a defensive one back.

"What! Facts are facts. That's what I get for studying in an all-girl's school all my life! I hardly had any male interaction, and you know, liking girls isn't all that bad... actually, did you know that a huge number of woman are actually Bi-curious at most?"

With a roll of his eyes, Rod knocked her playfully on the head with his knuckles and she yelped, looking at him menacingly. "Don't throw your random facts at me. Instead, how about we discuss this crush of yours, eh? What are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing."

Rod looked skeptical at the answer which almost came too fast to sound genuine.  
_"Nothing?"_ he asked.

"Nothing." She confirmed with a big nod of her head. Michelle headed over to the coat hanger standing by the door of the store and grabbed her jacket in a haste to dodge the on-coming questions that were about to come from Rod. She could already sense it coming from the creases that were appearing on his forehead as he frowned at her suspiciously.

"I'll see you tomorrow, make sure you remember to turn the radio off," she told him, indicating that she was going to be leaving a little earlier today. She waved him goodbye without meeting his eye and walked out of the store shortly just as she slipped an arm into the sleeve of her jacket.

* * *

_Nothing_, the black-haired teen sighed inside of her head once she was walking down the streets leading the way to her apartment. There was an uneasy feeling rolling around in the pits of her belly. Truthfully, it was hard to do 'nothing' about her feelings. He drove her _crazy_ and she was _so_ bloody aware of it.

She had first noticed how strongly attracted she was to him when he finally started to speak to her properly and she got to know what kind of person he really was _with_ the voice.

Michelle didn't know which part of him started this craze first. Was it that cocky attitude that she could never stayed irritated at even if she wanted to? Or perhaps it could have been that sharp tongue that lodged them both into debates that somehow always ended up in circles, thus defeating the point of a debate in the first place. Or could it be the way he was the exact opposite of her- so independent, confident, intelligent and always one step ahead of everybody? As weird as it was, Michelle knew she had an unexplainable attraction to it **all**. All the things that she was **not**. _How is it even possible to have such a huge shitload of chemistry between two people who were different as night and day? _

Michelle tried to fan away the thoughts. Okay, so maybe it wasn't that bad, yet, she told herself. Maybe her feelings would fade away once she didn't think so much about it.

I mean, _come on_..! The way her heart skipped a beat every time he smirked; it didn't mean a thing. It was also probably a coincidence that she got chills whenever he said her name in that smooth, smooth voice of his, as well. And so what if an image of Near appeared in her head unconsciously every two minutes? That was _nothing_! Bah. She was most likely just over-thinking, wasn't she?

Michelle eventually rode the lift up to her place and walked down the corridor to head to her door. Satisfied with her conclusion, she searched around for the house key and found it among some loose change in her pocket and poked it into the keyhole. The doorknob jangled nosily as she unlocked the door and took the first step into her apartment.

Just when she was about to saunter over and crash on the sofa, her cellphone started beeping away and like a fierce animal instinct, her mind screamed, _'Maybe it's Near!'_, and she scrambled to read the message. When she flipped open her phone, her wave of excitement died when she saw that it was just a message from Rod reminding her to be on time tomorrow.

..._**Shit**_._** Fuck! Damn!**_ That proved_ more than enough_!

With a silent groan, she fell forward onto the sofa and buried her face into her arms at the realization of how bad her problem was. Even lying through her teeth wasn't going to cut it anymore. _Let's face it, Michelle, you've got it bad... Really, really bad... _

So, what do you do when you want someone so out of your league? Somehow, Michelle knew in her heart that the answer wasn't '_nothing_'...

* * *

He didn't quite understand it.

Near was swimming in a cloud of his own perplexity back home. He furiously stacked dice as the wheels and gears in his head turned faster than ever.

His breathing _never_ stopped that abruptly for _anything_ before. He couldn't _remember_ the last time he blushed that much. In fact, he wasn't even aware that he _could_ blush. And what was that _annoying_ sound that kept drumming in his ears?

_Doki, doki, doki, doki..._

...Wait a second. Was that his _HEARTBEAT_ he was hearing?

He dropped the two dice he had in his right hand and placed it over his torso instead. He was alarmed when he realized that it _was_ his heart that was the cause of that weird sound. The thing was pounding away powerfully, and it frightened him a little.

_This cannot possibly be normal, can it? _He thought, fingers gripping his blouse and crumpling it in panic. _What's happening? All I did was think back to when Michelle touched me and..._

It was probably her fault, he instantly concluded. If something bad was happening to him, Michelle was probably to blame. After all, she was the mother of all stuff-ups, and that wouldn't be much of a surprise.

What exactly did she do to him that was making him act this way? All she did was put her arm around him! Others have touched him before, but never once did he react like _this_. On what logic could he use to explain this phenomenon?

This had happened a few times already in the pass few weeks, but he never felt the need to acknowledge it until now. He started to recall those moments. Their hands had brushed together accidentally a few times and his heart thumped. Then, she had held his shoulder once, unexpectedly on purpose and it almost came leaping out of his chest.

He _**hated**_ this. He hated not being able to figure out what was wrong, despite being a genius. This was _madness_. And madness itself was unexplainable and irrational. It was like some kind of disease or a curse. He should've known better than to hang around crazy people. Now the consequences were biting him back in the ass. He was pretty certain that he was going to go crazy as well.

"Michelle Chua, what have you done to me _this_ time?" he hissed softly out loud and walls of dice crashed down as he knocked them over to get to his bed.

All he could do was try to sleep and _pray_ that his heartbeat would return back to normal in the morning.

Sadly, the thumping organ inside of his chest did _nothing_ but beat him senseless from the dead of the night to the early crack of dawn the following day.

* * *

Maybe it was time to face some very obvious facts;

"I want him," she admitted to herself and to no one else in particular. She plucked listlessly at the strings on her acoustic guitar. A reverberating melody hummed in the air. "...I want him, oh my God, I want him so much. I like _Near_. Kill me. Just kill me now."

This thing was getting harder and harder to handle. It was too much for her head, too much for her health, too much for her heart.

_Shit. Mutha-fucking emotions. What do I do now?_

* * *

His heart was beating, beating, beating inside of him mercilessly and he twitched at how it was affecting his breathing pattern.

_This is impossible, I am only meeting her for some drinks, _Near reasoned with himself, trying to calm down and not let it show. When he saw her waltzing up from afar, it felt like his own skin suddenly grew too tight for his insides and was slowly squeezing the life out of him. It was ten times worse than his heart problem, to his dismay. The urge to run away as fast as he could was now doubly as strong as the one before when he still saw her as a nuisance.

She smiled, and he felt his palms growing sweaty as he forced himself to nod back, suddenly too shy to speak. He was inwardly surprised when she told him to follow her away from the cafe and to the park instead.

When they reached there, she motioned for him to take a seat on the bench and he obeyed, twirling his hair as usual at her queer behavior. She stood in front of him without looking at him directly.

"What is it?" he asked and she didn't reply. She waited a few seconds before unexpectedly snapping her head up and looking him dead in the eye. He looked away too quickly.

"Near, the thing is, I have to tell you something..." her words were faint, barely even there, and for some reason, she sounded _scared to death_.

_Did she have something to hide, after all? Is she going to confess to me and admit that she was in cahoots with Kira all along and that my heart is going to spontaneously combust in a super mega heart attack? Is that why it has been beating so hard?  
_  
"I-I don't know how you're going to react to this... and I don't really know where to start..."

_Just get to the damn point woman, so I can arrest you already for doing such a despicable thing to me.  
_  
"I m-mean... I know we only knew each other for almost two months now, but I realized that I really liked spending time with you. Your company has been the only thing that makes me look forward to something every day, you know? I don't want anything bad to happen... I can't fuck this up... since I only have one shot at this..."

_At this, I started preparing myself for the worst. I suppose, if I was going to die, at least I have it in my knowledge that she does appear to feel the slightest bit of remorse and guilt. I waited with bated breath for what was about to come next._

* * *

_You know what sucks about falling for you?_

_That I probably don't stand that much of a chance, anyway. But..._

The moment of truth arrived and Michelle sucked in as much air as she could, feeling a reckless pounding in both her ribcage and template. Her face was burning, her hands shook and her knees trembled weakly beneath her. This was it. The big turning point in their relationship. _Here goes nothing..._

"Near, I... I have feelings for you..!" she blurted the words out fast, like ripping off a band-aid. She squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment and awaited his response, but it never came. When she reopened her eyes, Near was staring at her blankly.

"...Pardon?" he questioned, eyebrows knitted together as if she had just confessed to him in Spanish.

Michelle blinked. _Huh? He doesn't get it? I thought I was being really clear. Maybe I was too soft..._

"I have feelings for you, Near." she repeated herself for the second time, this time in a louder, slightly more confident manner. "I just thought that I should let you know..."

He just stared at her and played with his hair, not getting it.

"...What _kind_ of feelings do you speak of?" he finally asked stoically and Michelle's eyes almost grew to the size of dinner plates when she heard that.

_...Are you FUCKING kidding me?_ The outraged girl shrieked in her head, feeling dreadfully cheated. _I gathered up all my will power and passion and all that crap into confessing to him and he ASKS ME WHAT KIND OF FEELINGS I HAVE FOR HIM? OH MY WORD. NEAR, YOU ARE THE __**STUPIDEST**__ GENIUS I HAVE EVER CAME ACROSS! EVER!_

"Near, YOU ARE UNBELIEVABLE! Honestly! Is there something wrong with the emotional part of your brain? Is that why you're like that?" She clung onto his shoulders and began shaking him a little in her fit. Near tore himself away feeling rather vexed at her roughness of handling him.

"Michelle. Please calm yourself and speak to me like a civilized person," the albino straightened out his blouse indifferently while he spoke. "It's not my fault you're not making yourself clear enough for me to understand what you're trying to get across."

She was _seething_ now.

"You want... clearer?" She almost growled dangerously through clenched teeth.

Near was apathetic, unfazed by the display of her emotions. "I believe that would be ideal," he said coldly.

_Okay, okay, okay. Calm down and try again. Don't blow it. Whatever you do..._

Her left eye twitched and she grumbled, "Fine," before getting down on one knee in front of where he was sitting, ala traditional marriage proposal style, and forced herself to smile the widest she can up at him in spite of her exasperation. Near stared down at her warily, also a little worried, being quite sure that she had lost her head at last until she started speaking.

"Near, I've been superficially attracted to you since the first time I saw you sitting in that coffee shop all alone. You are single-handedly one of the most attractive guys I have ever had the pleasure of setting my eyes on. That superficial attraction grew and expanded into romantic feelings once I got to know you a little better- feelings that one wouldn't have for someone you would consider just a friend- and now, I'm here confessing that I have been _head-over-heels crazy_ for you ever since I realized that. I like you. And I want to be _**more**_ than friends. Have I made it _**crystal-clear**_ enough for you?"

**...DOKI-DOKI-DOKI-DOKI-DOKI-DOKI-DOKI-DOKI-DOKI-DOKI-**

"N-Near..? What's wro- gah!" Michelle gasped as he suddenly shoved her backwards and she fell back onto her behind as he flew out of his seat.

He tripped over his own two feet in his rush and Michelle quickly got onto her knees in time to catch hold of the back of his blouse just in time to prevent him from falling over. Michelle felt very surprised, wondering what was up with that reaction.

"Be careful!" She cried, standing up to help hold him still, in a slightly scolding voice. "You can be so clums-" She was cut off before she could finish by having her hand slapped away harshly by Near. The abrupt move shocked her and made her freeze with her hand in mid-air. However, what he said next shocked her even more.

"Don't _**touch**_ me," Near hissed poisonously, his words colder than ice and sharper than knives. Without turning his head back to look at her, it was obvious that there was a sure glare on his normally expressionless face. He begun stalking off, fists balled up at his sides, movement stiff and rigid as the gravel nosily crunched under his steps. Michelle did nothing to stop him, finding herself unable to do anything but kneel there helplessly and watch him go, slipping away so quickly and unexpectedly. Her hand stung from him slapping it away, but she could barely feel it. _This... this was not... suppose to happen... what's... what's happening...?_

At that very second, it was like witnessing something extremely valuable and _so_ very fragile being purposely flung onto the ground and watching it shatter into a thousand, million unfixable pieces. Every single thing that existed between the two of them was starting to fall apart and _both_ of them could already sense it with a tragic melancholy.

Even though she wasn't clear on why he was acting this way, it was almost painfully plain to see that Near was disgusted with _her, _for doing this, and he was disgusted with _himself_ too, for allowing her to do it.

She didn't want to believe it, but it was still there. Her eyes felt a little damper, but she didn't cry. It stung.

"Near, I-" her weak-voiced attempt was so feeble and pathetic that it was crushed instantaneously before it was even completed by four simple words.

The last sentence from him were soaked with the kind of bitterness and hatred that came just a little short from leaving deep, scarring gashes and bloody claw marks on one's emotional being. Near hoped dearly that the words he left her with sank in good and firm; the message that came along with them as harsh as a cruel and merciless slap across the face.

"...Love is _just_ hormones."


	10. Understanding The Glass Wall

_"-You got it, you got it, some kind of magic. Hypnotic, hypnotic, you're leaving me breathless. I hate this, I hate this, you're not the one I believe in. Oh, God is my witness. Now when I caught myself, I had to stop myself from saying something that I should've never thought. Now when I caught myself, I had to stop myself from saying something, that I should've never thought of you. Of you... you're pushing and pulling me down to you..."_

**-Paramore: I Caught Myself**

* * *

...Don't let me think of you. Get out of my head.

You are nothing but trouble. Nothing but filthy poison seeping into my bloodstream, finding a way to kill me off when I least expect it.

You are not what I want. You are not what I _need_.

What I need is to be alone, to be able to stand on my own two feet without needing to rely on others to support me. I didn't know what I was thinking; letting you dance around me like that, sprinkling glitter and sugarcoating everything with words that are pleasing to the ear, but falsify the realness of reality with fairytale-like concepts.

_**Love? **_Love is not even an emotion. It is a useless and disastrous condition that leaves a person needy and blind to logic. It is more of a state of infatuation caused by hormones more than anything else. Do you expect me to accompany you by indulging in this stupidity together with you, Michelle Chua?

It doesn't matter. I don't think someone like you would understand. Even if I were to explain it over and over to you a million times, produce evidence of how love drains people and makes them pathetic and useless with its absence after being infected, you would still fail to comprehend my words.

And it's a pity. Because if you happened to realize this, then you would actually be less of a fool. I know and believe that you have sense somewhere in you, but you just refuse to use it. You'd rather test your boundaries and challenge everything that comes your way, just for the fun of it. I don't know what joy you find in walking against the current. I refuse to argue with you anymore, however, because it's pointless arguing with a person who enjoys the arguing _in general_ in the first place and not what you can actually _gain_ from an argument in the end.

I can no longer see you as anything else but an **enemy**. You defy my theory, and challenge my knowledge; therefore you can only be considered to be my rival. And I will not lose something I am so sure of, especially not to a person like _you_. An _**idiot to the very core**_; that's what you are and most likely what you are doomed to always be.

Only idiots fall for other idiots, and I am certainly not an idiot. Even if I scoff at the idea of romance, at the very least I can say that sensible people should not be paired up with idiots, but with other sensible people instead. That way, the offspring and genetic DNA of the idiots would decrease and there would be more people with brains around in this world.

An idiot and a sensible person should not be coupled up together for many reasons. Mainly because the idiot does stupid things that causes chaos and wrecks havoc and _enjoys it_, while the sensible person who has a brain and knows the right way to behave, has to be pulled into the mess the idiot created against their will since they are a couple and he or she has to _suffer_.

What bothers me the most is the fact that I _enjoyed the_ company of an idiot. I'll give you that much. You are very interesting to be around, but anybody would be amused with idiocy. It's just one of those things that come naturally for some reason.

Sadly, this is the end of our short-lived 'friendship', as you call it...

...so get _out_.

Get out of my head! Stop causing me to think so much about you! Even when you are not here, you are _still_ around me. It is as if you made a nest in my brain with your memories, your laughter, your voice, your images, and your_ touch even_...

It is so tiring to be stuck in this state.

Why am I being affected like this? It used to be so easy brushing off unsubstantial issues such as this. You're not any different from the girls back in the orphanage. Just another girl. You're just another 'Linda', aren't you...?

I try my hardest to believe that, but then my mind protests and it is like I'm fighting a battle with myself.

You see, I have an unwilling confession to make. A secret that haunts me to the very end. The thing is, I _**know **_that you're not just another 'Linda'. You are nothing like her. You are nothing like any of the other girls back at Wammy, either. None of them are like you. You, who believes in wishes, dreams and prayers, in living in disregard and reckless abandonment, in things that cannot be explained...

...I have never met anyone else like _you_...

Instead of a close-lipped smile and a girlish giggle, you laugh obnoxiously with your mouth wide open and lips stretched tight to show off your teeth, not caring how you looked or how people looked at you.

Instead of politely inquiring if I would like to go out and play and then leave when I decline, you refuse to take 'no' as an answer and proceed to forcefully drag me by the arm to the outside so we could spend more time together.

Instead of getting hurt or offended at the constant insults I throw at you, you pout a little and then laugh it off, never taking it to heart, before you insult me back, in the name of playful teasing.

Instead of ignoring and giving up on me like everybody else, you decided that since you can't coax me out of my shell, you shall come inside to join me instead, so no one else from the outside could disturb us. At some moments, it really did feel like it was just _you _and_ me..._and no one else.

...No. I _cannot_ think for even an instance that you are like the others. You are undeniably different. Be it in a good or bad way. As a person in general, I will give you credit for that.

Lastly, instead of choosing to fall for a guy that would have suited you better, you chose to fall for me. Why is that so? I fail to see what you are planning to do, once again.

I would have assumed that a better suitor would have been someone like Mello, maybe. There are plenty of resemblances between you two.

For starters, you two let your emotions take control of your actions, so he would probably understand your feelings more than I ever will. And then there's the fact that you both enjoy living life like it's a wild party, so he should be better company than me. In terms of physique as well, Mello has definitely the kind of body majority of females would go for and his face isn't that bad looking-

_**What am I saying, he'd probably get her killed twice as quick as she would be able to accomplish herself**_- my own thought snapped at me and I narrow my eyes. Where on earth did _that_ come from?For some reason... that part of me didn't appreciate me imagining you and Mello together.

It was coughing up excuses now- _**She'd annoy the sanity out of him, wouldn't she? And he would be too bossy for her to enjoy being around... she wouldn't chase him around like the way she chased me around, so I don't have to worry about something like th- ..**_No._**  
**_

I have to force myself to stop before I go any further. It _does not_ matter. Not even a little. I am not going to entertain these preposterous thoughts any longer. It means nothing to me. You mean _nothing_ to me...

I closed my eyes and squeezed them shut as tightly as I could. My legs were pulled up against my chest and my arms were wrapped around them to hug them close to my body. I was curled up into a ball. I repeated those words again and again to myself like a religious chant, trying to fold my emotions and feelings away like a piece of paper, reducing them to their smallest form so I could store them away in the deepest, most deserted part of my heart, hopefully to be forgotten forevermore.

_...But it was hopeless..._

At the back of my eyelids, all I saw were lively brown eyes, glimmering and shining, full of chaos and life, and thick locks of messy dark hair which were dark, pitch black, the very opposite of my own. All I heard was merry laughter and a voice calling for me over and over again; '_Angel, Angel..._', and somehow that soothes me. For whatever sick and unintelligible reason, it _does_, and just like how I would put together a puzzle, I put all the pieces together in my mind and I saw... _**you**_.

A strange, yet somehow fitting vision flashes before me. It was strange, only because I don't usually have extraordinary bursts of visions, but this one seemed to be abnormally vivid and I couldn't help but pay attention to it.

You were in my head, infiltrating my thoughts and standing outside of that window in the cafe that we met in for the first time, staring back at me, the glass dividing us both.

I looked at you and I felt something that I could not recognize. I deduced that it might have been, or was at the very least very closely related to _fear_.

You were so close that you could have easily stretched out a hand and touched me or did whatever you wanted to me, if not for the sheet of glass. I didn't know what I would have done if you did. With the frightful emotion I was experiencing currently, maybe I would have just fallen into bits and pieces of myself, lying in a pile of pathetic shambles, doomed to never return to being the same again.

As I stood there and kept my eyes on you, I found that my legs grew to be suddenly as heavy as lead and I was stuck rooted to the spot. I almost didn't notice that the cafe was starting to fade away into nothingness, leaving the window to morph into a glass wall. The wall stretched on for miles and miles, from left to right, and was so impossibly high that I had no doubt that there was no way to get through or over it. We were blocked off from each other, denied of direct contact. Still, you showed me your usual warm, inviting smile.

_"Near?"_; a single word fell from your lips, and my skin suddenly started shrinking against my bones again. All of the resentment and blame I put so much effort into building up for you disappeared without a trace. I cannot hide. The glass was transparent.

That doesn't mean that it didn't exist. You could see me, and I could see you, but I am here and you are there. _**The message could not be any clearer.**_ As long as this invisible wall continued to exist between us, we could_ never_ be in the _same_ world.

Your smile turned into a frown as I thought that, and in my head, you appeared to have understood. You looked sad as you gently pressed your fingertips against the glass that was coming between us, which was the closest you could do to try and reach to me. Did this grim reality sadden you that much?

_I nearly started feeling sorry about it, myself._

"_I have feelings for you, you know that, right?_" you whispered again, and I nodded understandingly, surprisingly in an easily accepting manner. I never mentioned feeling mutual, but I acknowledged it like a fact. _"Near..."_

There it was again. My alias flowed inside your voice like a part of the lyrics to an alluring song. A siren's song. The only one that had ever worked on me._ Would it be foolish to believe that this song was specially composed for me, and only me?_

Before I knew it, my own hand rose and my own fingertips were pressing against the glass as well, right over yours longingly. Your frown transformed back into a smile upon seeing that. For a moment, I let it be. I let my fingers linger there on the glass's surface for a while before drawing them back again slowly.

I turned my back and walked away from the wall. I opened up my eyes and the visual scenario distorted and I was pulled back into the real world immediately.

I wished you could understand like I did, Michelle.

If only you knew that the glass wall is my protection from the outside world. On my side of the wall, everything is white, bright, and I can see everything clearly in the light. Everything is always rational. I am never lost. Control is always within my reach when I need it. On your side of the wall, everything is black and dark and _frightening_. Things are dwelling in the shadows, waiting to hurt me. Terrible, terrible creatures that I have no knowledge of. Creatures that I have no power over or control of. They want nothing more than to inflict pain on me. Since you are on that side of the wall, how can I be so sure that _you _are not one of those creatures, yourself...?

...I know I am contradicting myself yet again in some ways. Because, to be honest, I have _never _feel this much _hatred _and_ spite_ towards the glass prison I am residing in before. Could it be possible that, in reality, it is really** I** who did not understand? But how could I be wrong? I am never wrong. I _hate_ how you make me feel like I'm making more mistakes than I have ever made in my entire life span.

I slowly uncurled myself from my position and start to get off from the floor, but I return back to closing my eyes, hoping to see you one more time.

A part of me considers that, maybe, _just maybe_, all I needed was someone _crazy_ such as yourself- _who deals with illogical matters all the time_- to help me in understanding this thing that did not make any sense. _  
_  
I stared at the blinding back of my eyelids and allowed myself to play pretend with an imaginary figment of you. A soft breath of both blissful peace and mournful frustration escapes the parted gap between my lips.  
_  
...Hormones are so troublesome._


	11. Injustice Of The Heart

_"-I don't want to see you waiting, I've already gone too far away. I still can't keep the day from ending, no more messed up reasons for me to stay. Well, this is not for real, afraid to feel. I just hit the floor, don't ask for more, I'm wasting my time, I'm wasting my time... You can't stop the feeling, there is no reason, just make the call and take it all again... whoa, again..."_

**-Default: Wasting My Time**

* * *

"You're alright, aren't you?" Rod questioned gently, watching her face with caution as though he was expecting her to break down into tears at any given second. Michelle kept a straight face. She didn't look particularly sad, but she didn't look at him, either. Upon receiving nothing but stony silence, the man sighed and scratched his head awkwardly.

"...I'm not gonna lie," he started up again after some hesitation. "I know you like him a lot... but what that guy of yours did back there... was pretty_... mean_."

Mean. That was the nicest word he could have came up with, considering the whole situation.

Again, there wasn't a given reply and Rod let his hand drop from his head limply, planning to drop the subject entirely since it looked as if Michelle wasn't ready to say anything just yet. When she did, he was faintly surprised so he quickly straightened up as she spoke.

"I know." Those two words sounded both heavy and thoughtful at the same time as they flowed out of the girl, who continued refusing to look at Rod. Just when Rod was about to reply, she spoke again.

"There were a few people in my life that I was really, really close to and most of them ended up hurting me badly before. I've already dealt with this before I even met him. If you're worried about me, don't be. I am hurt, really. But I'm sure as hell not going to cry over him."

Michelle tucked her hair behind her right ear and exhaled a good, long sigh. In a way, she nearly seemed carefree as she hooked her fingers together and stretched her arms high above her head, an unfitting humor now riding in her words.

"...Because, like you said, what that guy of mine did back there... was pretty _mean_, wasn't it?"

Finally, she looked and half-forced a grin at her boss; just as a simple form of reassurance, before the silver bell at the door tinkled on cue when a customer walked into the shop and forced the conversation to come to an end.

* * *

_Hey, Near.  
_

_I've thought about it over and over again. About you. About me. About us.  
And this is what I have to say..._

_"You know, some things in life just aren't fair.__There are some things that seem very, very fair and satisfactory, as well as things that can very easily hold you by a leash just because it can. A very good example of how just unfair life can be would be something like the matters of the heart._

_Sometimes you can control people, and sometimes you can't. That plainly shows the limited extent of how powerful a person can be. Emotions are nasty, cruel overlords living inside of your heart, who can control you any time, in any place, through any way they want to. You can choose not to show your emotions, and there are people who turn out to be very good at hiding them, pretending that they're completely in command. But in the end, you will always, always somehow lose to your emotions in one way or another. You will find that they play a very big influence even in defining what is logical too, if you think about it. This is simply the truth reality holds. We lose to our emotions hands-down._

_Emotions have 'personalities', you know. Anger is unreasonable and chaotic, happiness is pleasing and warm, sadness is lonely and tiring, jealousy is stubborn and overpowering... and... would you consider love an emotion...?_

_Because love is never, never the same. I would say that love is actually every emotion stirred into one big soup. Love is unreasonable, chaotic, pleasing, warm, lonely, tiring, stubborn, overpowering..._"

Michelle digresses from her train of thought, and shifts abruptly over to the next one.

_"Human beings are natural-born liars_._ It doesn't matter if you say you're not a liar, because, undeniably, you are one. Everybody lies. At least once. From kids to parents, from your most hated rival or your next door neighbor; we all do it. The simple difference that varies is that not everyone is aware of it._

_A person can lie and know that they are lying, and not be bothered by it, but the person standing next to the first, might lie and not even know what's happening._

_And I._

_I have been lying to myself for so long. That's the problem with me, you see? From the very start, even way back when I was still back at home, I had a bad habit of lying. To the people around me, and to myself most of the time. Sometimes, I would do it on purpose, and sometimes it really isn't my fault, because my emotions, being the fucking overlords they are, make me do it without me realizing._

_Lying comes hand in hand with denial, and denial leads to downfall. Maybe I can even call them the same thing. They probably are. I denied that I needed to work harder at my studies. I denied the suspicions that my relationships were not really what I thought they were. I denied that I needed to change myself. I denied, lied, to myself that I was fine the way I was. And all of this has destroyed me from the inside out._

_But let's not dwell on depressing details like that, because it's all in the past. Lying or denying is now considered a form of 'running away' to me. I refuse to run away anymore. I am getting sick of it. I need to work on changing myself. There have been so many things that I let go wrong that I've got to get at least this one right no matter how much effort it takes. I just have to. I need to fix it. Now that I've learned my lesson and opened up my eyes a little, I'm going to find a damn way to fight the urge to run away. I'm not going to stop. If I do, then the answer will obviously, without a doubt, always be 'no'.  
_

_**Never. Give. Up**__."_

That was her final conclusion. She wasn't going to let everything end just like that yet. It was far too late now for her to back down, but way too early for her to give everything up. Near could throw everything and anything he wanted at her, and she _knew_ she was still going to be there. No more running away from difficult matters. She could take it all.

Because, to her, he was _more_ than worth it.

* * *

Was she finally out of his life for good? And if she really was, did he even care?

Days dragged by awkwardly and all forms of contact between Near and Michelle ceased to exist. No meetings, no phone calls, no text messages from cell phones, no nothing. Absolutely nothing _at all_.

It was as if they never even met.

Near sat in his bedroom, building impressive structures out of thousands and thousands of pieces of dice as usual, trying furiously to keep himself occupied with at least _something_, after being tired of freaking out all by himself. It was the fourth day of returning to being alone again, and while he was slightly relieved, he had a bland feeling of uneasiness hanging over his head.

Honestly, you can't expect to feel normal once you got used to something, spent almost two months with it and then to have it unexpectedly cut off and removed from your life. It would feel... _weird_. And that was exactly how Near felt.

He took a short glance at the clock and noticed that it was about a little pass noon, usually the time where Michelle would give him a ring or a text and pester him with some sort of invitation to go out and 'play'. He looked away and begun stacking dice faster.

He was glad that he didn't have to face her only because he wouldn't have known what to do or how to react. Especially if she were to start crying or something, because isn't that usually what girls did when they were hurt? He was about sure that he had wounded her feelings from that brutal rejection. After he had calmed down, he had replayed the scene back in the park over and over again mentally, analyzing the situation with every bit of seriousness he would apply to a murder case.

So many questions whizzed through his mind so many times, and to his frustration, he couldn't answer them on his own. To make matters worse, the only person who could probably quench his the thirst for answers was the very one whom he dreaded to see.

_Clack, clack, clack..._

..._It used to be so noisy when she was here_, he couldn't help but notice. Now the only sounds that were left were the sounds of dices clicking together into place as the towers came to life. He used to enjoy this silence, but now it just felt so _wrong_. All because she wasn't here with her deafening thunder.

Why didn't she call? She wouldn't have lost his number, unless of course, she had decided to delete it, but Near decided that wouldn't have been very Michelle at all. In fact, he had more expected her to pop up by his doorstep loaded with words and awaited emotional drama, and he unconsciously waited for the time a maid would interrupt him, saying that a 'strange girl with black hair' was requesting for him. She knew where he lived. She _would_ do it.

But when she _didn't_, Near started to rethink that maybe he didn't know her as well as he thought he did. Her out of the blue confession was probably enough proof to back that up. That girl was something he could not yet comprehend.

_Clack, clack, clack..._

Vaguely, he recalled the first and only time he had allowed her to come inside. It was about a month ago, when he was still wary about becoming too attached, and didn't want her going anywhere near his house. That day had been an exception, because it started raining and his place happened to be thankfully a stone's throw away.

Michelle followed him like a puppy with a master around the house, never leaving his side and eventually they arrived at his room. She had sat backwards on the swivel chair as he settled on the floor, and observed him with childlike awe as he built a ginormous, towering house of cards without any trace of difficulty at all. Near had made sure that his hands were particularly steady that day, and that the design of his creation was more complex and complicated than usual.

It only occurred to him now that he was unconsciously trying to impress her. That was the only time he had _ever _put in effort to impress someone before, and it made him wonder.

When she praised him over and over again for his prowess and skill, for once, he felt _proud_, even though he never showed it. He only ever felt that way the first few times he had continued to top the rankings at Wammy's, and even that feeling of achievement grew dull. Why a couple of exaggerated compliments he heard a million times from others before, now coming from a girl he once labeled a pest made him feel gratified, was beyond him.

Near shifted a little to begin on the other half of his masterpiece. He grabbed a large handful of dice in his left hand and the clicking of construction continued.

_Clack, clack, clack..._

...It was too quiet...

_Clack, clack..._

Hmmm...

Suddenly, a terrible thought crossed his mind and made him knock over a small portion of his building by accident. _**She couldn't have committed suicide, could she..?**_

Near's eyes expanded as he contemplated and weighted out the possibility. Michelle was so emotional... and rash. What if she chose to do that because her misery had been too overbearing? Would she have killed herself because of... because of _him_?

He forced himself to mash up those thoughts and burn them to little ashes. No, even if Michelle was emotional, suicide was a very serious decision and he doubted she would go to that extreme. Besides, even if she _**did **_kill herself, it would be all over the papers, he reasoned.

_Best not to dwell so much on it..._it was none of his business what she did with her life. His hand reached out to fix the part of building he messed up.

_Clack... clack... clack..._

Barely a minute passed and the insane thoughts revived on their own and started attacking him in every possible way at the speed of light. His fingers moved fast to try and chase them away._  
_  
_...What if she decided to kill herself, but hasn't yet? What if she's on top of a skyscraper this very second, writing her last words on a piece of paper and is getting ready to take the plunge? What if she's locked up in her toilet and downing pills? What if-_

ClackClackClackClackClack-

_**THUMP!**_

What was that? Near stopped his rapid construction and listened for that interfering noise. He raised his head and looked around the room, blinking and wondering if it had just been his mind playing tricks on him again.

_**Thump! Thump! Thump!**_

There it was again. It was coming from the window. His eyes swiveled over to the window and he stared curiously at it before a pebble flew up and conked the glass. Someone was downstairs and throwing stones at his window.

Thin eyebrows raised with a sneaking suspicion. Near stood up from the floor and shuffled over to the window and peered down, gray orbs keenly searching for the culprit.

_...looks like she's still alive and well, after all._

* * *

Michelle, already impatient with the lack of response, was about to bend over and pick up another pebble- _a particularly big one_- when she looked up and saw a familiar white face glaring down at her like how an eagle would stare down at its prey.

She flashed a bright smile, waved heartily before dusting her hands together and stood up straight as he carefully unlatched and opened the windows.

Before he had the chance to say or ask something,- _such as; where the hell have you been for these last few days?_- she pointed passionately at him and grinned like a Cheshire cat, reaching behind to grab the acoustic guitar laid on the ground behind her.

"Yo! Near! This one's for you!"

The albino detective frowned, not knowing what she meant at first when she reached into her pocket and took out a guitar pick. The music of the guitar filled the air, and was even loud enough to hear clearly from where he was.

_...Dear God. She's not going to start doing what I think she's going to is sh-_

"Hey, boy!" The first two words of the song were sung, confirming his fears and his already pale face looked even paler than usual. "You've got a smart way about you, that makes me... wish that I was smart enough for you!"

"What on earth are you doing?" Near hissed, actually sounding bewildered for once. The guitar playing and a girl lingering in front of his house was starting to attract stares and whispers from random passerbys.

"Hey boy, you've got a fine laugh and I think that I could get used to that!" She continued singing, ignoring the attention she was getting, as well as the horror evident on Near's face. "And you're already used to laughing at me..."

As if on cue, a few snickers were heard behind her and Near felt like hiding himself. He didn't leave, however. He had to watch. It was like being there to observe a speeding vehicle heading straight for a tree, and then crashing and burning.

To make matters worse, a few of the members of his staff were gathered downstairs and peeking through the front door to see what all the fuss was about. Some of them looked amused, but most of them were shocked. How was Near going to explain this embarrassing event later on?

"So what if your friends think I'm crazy?" the Asian girl pointed at every male staff gawking at her and the male passerbys standing a distance behind her watching her perform. "Well, I wasn't trying to impress those guys, anyway! They're all theory, no action, and where I'm from, we live like it's the latest attraction!"

Near twitched when some people actually started to cheer encouragingly and wolf-whistle, shouting out comments like, 'Yeah! You go for it, girl!' and 'That girl's got guts!'. He couldn't take it anymore and tore himself from the window to stalk out of his room and down the hallway as quickly as he could.

He pushed aside the small crowd of his staff members irritably and squeezed through to get in front, shooting her death glares from his doorstep. Michelle didn't even flinch, a sheepish grin on her face as she waltzed forward.

"Michelle..." He started off quietly but angrily, trying his best not to show too much of it.

"Hey, boy, you've got a short fuse, and I've got designs on lighting you up, and setting you off... " She deflected his words once again and kept on singing, making a daring move to tilt his chin upwards with her finger, at which he hastily pulled away. "Watching you burn for me..."

And _yes_. Near _was _burning. There was red flooding his hot cheeks, and he wasn't sure if it was more from embarrassment or anger. He clenched his fists lightly by his sides and stared at her coldly with acid. Then, when that didn't work, he switched to closing his eyes and waited for her to finish her ridiculous serenade.

"Go on, go on, your cruel intentions won't solve your problems, everyone's gotta get bottom, bottomed out in the long run and those are the times you need love..." the words of the _Dashboard Confessional _song faded away together with the sweet tunes of the acoustic guitar.

Near took a deep breath and exhaled quietly, inwardly relieved, albeit still annoyed, as Michelle slung the instrument over her shoulder and looked around, grinning and looking pleased with herself. The people who stayed to watch eventually departed and the staff retreated back inside to give them some privacy after a sharp warning glance from Near.

He turned back to her with an expressionless face that definitely stated how unamused he was with her little stunt, arms crossed unfavorably over his chest.

"...Are you _quite_ done?"

With a stupid-looking smirk on her face, Michelle nodded and started to rub the back of her neck with her left hand. "Yeah... hi, Near." She greeted and fluttered her fingers sheepishly at him.

"What is the meaning of all of this?" He avoided beating around the bush and went directly straight to the point, demanding an explanation, gesturing to her guitar by glaring at it. "What merits do gain from _embarrassing_me like this? I don't appreciate you making me look like a fool as well as yourself, Michelle."

Michelle winced slightly at the sternness that was evident in the way he was speaking. She hadn't expected him to get so riled up over it. Feeling a prickle of disappointment, she dropped her hand from the back of her neck and pursed her lips together.

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry-"

"Kindly leave." The request was more of a command, and it was apparent that Near wanted her out of his sight immediately. She was not down with that.

"No_._"

"You are trespassing on private property," warned Near, the icy tone never wavering. "Please leave before I report you to the authorities."

"I'm not leaving until we fix everything between us," The reply was twice as stubborn and matched up strongly with his strictness. Michelle had squared her shoulders in determination now and raised her chin a little in defiance, and for a fleeting second, Near was at a lost of what to do. He didn't really want to call the cops on her, but he wouldn't stand by watching her march her own parade like this.

_And what was she blabbering on about? Fix everything between us? _Near snorted at the thought. _Yes, she completely vanishes from sight for a number of days and then shows up like this, uttering garbage once again. So typical._ _This was to be expected. _In his head, he was blaming her again, suddenly forgetting that it was his fault that she pulled a disappearing act in the first place.

He still couldn't argue with the fact that he was just the slightest bit glad that she reappeared once more, and looked to the side to avoid it showing as he pulled at some of his hair and pretended to be interested in a bird preening itself on a tree branch. "...What do you want? There is nothing to fix... and where did you go to these last four days?" He couldn't help but ask. "I thought you had died."

"Yeah, right!" Michelle cried, actually stomping her foot temperamentally, her guitar nearly slipping off the slope of her shoulder with the violent movement. "It's just so like you to say that! You're such a cold-hearted jerk, Near! When a girl gathers up enough guts to tell you that she fancies you, you** don't** just run away from her! I poured my _whole heart_ into that confession, you know! The least you could do was **REJECT ME LIKE A REAL MAN**! That was the _first_ time I _ever_ confessed to _anyone_ and you just... you... ughh! Goddammit!"

Her emotions were spilling out from everywhere; her actions, her words, pretending to be hysterical and treating the whole thing with as much causality as possible. Her eyes reflected irritation, disbelief, anger and just a bare hint of hurt- _Near noted with a small pang of guilt that he quickly shoved off_- but she still managed a wry grin on her face. At least she wasn't bawling her eyes out.

He listened to her ramble on for a few more seconds before cutting in to stop her, his tone a little softer than before, his agitation subsiding.

"...I understand where you're getting at Michelle, and I accept that you're upset. But _you _have to understand... that I can't... do that with you..." His volume was growing lower and lower as his eyes snapped back to the bird he was looking at earlier, following it as it flapped its wings and flew away.

There was a short pause. Then Michelle spoke up again.

"Do what? Get into a relationship with me? Why not, Near? Do you hate me that much?"

Another pause. Near shook his head after thinking it over carefully.

"...That's not it." He mumbled. "I... consider you to be... okay company." _Despite the agony and unwanted stress you bring me, I cannot lie about that fact._

Michelle clicked her tongue and sighed, her brown orbs turning to the other direction as she shifted on her feet. She glanced down and nudged a small pebble here and there with the front of her shoe and continued.

"...After you rejected me that day in the park, I went back home. Obviously I was confused, saddened and more than just a little disappointed. So, I sat in my living room and contemplated everything... about who we where, what we were and where we stood. Then, I realized, just because I have this huge, major crush on you, it doesn't mean... that you might feel the same way. It was wrong of me to force my feelings on you like that. So, I'm... sorry... for that, I guess." She said everything slowly in a low tone, and Near listened to each word carefully, his fingers fumbling through his hair as he stood at his doorstep awkwardly and watched the pebble being kicked around.

She heaved a long sigh and adjusted the instrument properly over her shoulder before kicking the pebble sideways, sending it rolling off into the distance. She spun on her heel and started to leave.

"I'll see you again tomorrow. I'm not going to give up so quickly."

"I don't believe in love," Near said, feeling the need to declare that in case she got the wrong idea again. "Michelle, I would advise you to drop it before you fall even deeper into this. I won't press charges against you if you insist on pestering me like this, but you're going to end up hurting yourself if you chase after something that you cannot achieve."

"I'll _**make**_ you believe in love!" she snapped fiercely, glaring over her shoulder for his attempt at putting out her fire. The girl proceeded to make her way off his property and left without saying anything else.

Near waited until she was really gone before stepping inside and shutting the door a little too roughly. He was miffed. _Who did she think she was?_Nobody could change his mind once he had made it up. Not even her. He headed for the stairs, ignoring the stares from two of his maids hiding in a corner.

_Fine, then. Let her try if she wants. The challenge is on._

_I won't lose._

* * *

It was like a battle. A war of who could hold out longer than who, and it was _utterly _ridiculous.

Michelle wasn't kidding about not giving up, and she proved this by coming to his house and loitering below his house every day after the first. Near wasn't kidding about not giving in, either, so he tried his best to ignore her and leaf through some of the new documents L had sent to him instead. Now that Kira was slightly more active, it meant that Near was slightly more involved.

She would literally sit down in the grass, occasionally with a book or with her acoustic guitar, and waited for him for hours on end. For five whole days she kept this up, before she got bored and took it a step further and started to _do 'things_'.

Near deadpanned when he found his front door covered with colourful post-its in the shape of hearts, telling him how 'pretty', how 'smart', how 'attractive', how 'stubborn and _**fucking **_irritating' he was. He ordered his staff to take them off at once and dispose of them.

On a particular windy day, she sat on his front lawn, constructing a homemade kite out of paper and used a red permanent marker to write the words, 'TAKE A CHANCE ON ME! GO OUT WITH ME!' on the front and flew it in front of his window on purpose.

Near merely opened his window, armed with a pair of scissors and proceeded to snap off the strings and destroyed the kite without any remorse. "You're getting on my nerves, Michelle Chua," He raised the tone of his usually dull voice to state how displeased he was before throwing the tattered thing down, shutting the windows and drawing the curtains close.

Another day, she couldn't afford to be there to try and 'woo' him because she needed to be at the shop to take care of something, so instead, she hired someone else to do it for her. When the maid came up to his room and handed him a bouquet of twelve red roses, stating that a delivery man had arrived at the door and said it was for him, he didn't feel so bad... they _**were **_beautiful flowers.

He was only annoyed when he came down to search for a vase to put them in, only to find out that Michelle had also sent him lilies, carnations, sunflowers, daisies, tulips, tiger lilies, orchards, lilacs, chrysanthemums... the list was endless.

For a few days, his living room had transformed into a mini flora garden. It was tough clearing everything away once the flowers started to die out and left ugly, useless, wilting petals laying everywhere.

_I might want to reconsider reporting her to the police, _Near scowled as he peeped outside his window and saw Michelle squatted on his lawn with a stick, poking at a poor, defenseless, innocent beetle trying to scurry away from her with it. _I don't know how much more of this nonsense I can take.  
_  
He was about to return back to his work when a flash of silver lightning slashed across the overcast sky and a clap of thunder boomed dangerously after. Not more than ten seconds later, it started raining cats and dogs, the cold raindrops pelting like a shower of gravel on his window.

_...Good. Maybe that will chase her off today. _He thought as he shuffled back over to his desk and began typing on his laptop with one hand, the other in his hair.

An hour later, the rain still wasn't letting up and Near wondered if it was going to last the whole day. He pushed himself off his seat and shuffled back over to the window to take a look at the gloomy, dark sky curiously. When he looked back down, he was taken aback.

_What does she think she's doing..? _He pressed his hands up against the glass and blinked harshly to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He squinted his eyes and saw through the slightly fogged up glass that it _was_ her. Apparently, Michelle was still out there, despite the heavy downpour, and was currently dancing shelter-less in the rain. _Stupid girl! She's going to fall ill if she stays out there in this kind of weather!  
_  
He went out of his room and headed downstairs, showcasing no emotions apart from his eyebrows being knitted together under his bangs as he grabbed an umbrella from the stand in by the front door. A middle-aged maid, Caroline, who had been worriedly watching Michelle from a small window downstairs, glanced over to Near in concern.

"She's been out there for quite a while now. I tried to convince her to go home, but she said she was fine." Caroline hesitated before averting her hazel eyes nervously, unsure of how Near would react. "She... she said that she wasn't going to leave until she got to you..."

Gritting his teeth a little at what Caroline told him, Near rolled his eyes and unlocked the front door, being unpleasantly introduced to a gust of chilly air as he stepped outside and opened up his umbrella.

"Hey! Near!" Michelle spotted him as he stepped onto the porch with the umbrella shielding his head, keeping him dry for the most part except for a few stray rain droplets flying with the wind, creating barely noticeable damp patches on his clothes. She danced up to him, still as cheerful as ever, and grinned. He scowled even more.

"Have you _really _lost it?" He scolded, gripping on tighter to the handle of the umbrella so it wouldn't get stolen by the increasing wind force.

"Nah," She calmly told him, looking up at his umbrella. "Cute umbrella. Why is it blue and has yellow rubber ducks on it?" She asked, amused by the design of the thing.

Near sighed. "Go home. You're going to get sick."

"No I won't," She danced away again, twirling around on one foot. "I have a pretty macho immune system, so I hardly ever get sick, and even if I do, I heal really quickly. It's no bother!"

Michelle whipped the wet hair out of her face and used her hand to claw her soaked bangs upwards so they wouldn't stick to her eyes. Raising her face up to the sky, she allowed the droplets to come showering down onto her, sliding off her skin and dribbling down her body, her clothes sticking to her flesh. Today, she was wearing blue. Funny how he only noticed that after he noticed everything else about her, including her expression, actions and the rest of her physical appearance of which the colour blue wasn't coating over.

Near didn't know what to do. Once again, he was caught between one choice and another, and it was causing him agitation. He just stood there on the porch, holding the umbrella and watched her dance, soon forgetting that he was supposed to try and get her home.

It was the way she was dancing around that made the thoughts slip out out of his head. But _no_, it wasn't that she was graceful or even dancing with a shred of professional skill or anything like that. She didn't posses the prowess of a gorgeous ballerina, gliding on her feet across the yard as if she were skating on ice. Not even close.

Michelle was stumbling over her feet clumsily, carelessly as she ran around in circles, sometimes waving her arms around frantically like a maniac as she shrieked and laughed loudly, trying to balance herself. She hopped in puddles and held her palms high to the sky, trying to catch the falling raindrops before doing the occasional three-hundred-and-sixty degrees spin. It was a chaotic, messy, yet unexplainable happy dance that prevented him from looking away. He couldn't help but watch her brave the elements, finding himself completely transfixed.

She was just so... well...

Near faltered slightly, holding the umbrella closer to him, his long, white fingers wrapping around the handle.

_...It suited her. Something this crazy definitely suited her. And in a way... she looks... just faintly... __**attractive**__?_

Hurriedly in denial, he shooed the last unimportant comment away from his brain and wondered how someone could possibly have so much_ fun_ in a thunderstorm, when it was so _dangerous_ and _cold_ and _dreadful_. He just couldn't get it, no matter how hard he tried.

_Different..._ this was the _**very**_ reason _why _they were in two separate worlds.

"You're mad," He wrinkled his nose and told her, still unable to understand her outlandish ways. The silly little grin came to life again at the sound of his disbelief and Near shook his head, catching hold of a wet sleeve and pulling her under the umbrella with him. "...Still, I wouldn't want you to catch ill. If you die from a sickness you caught from dancing like a buffoon under the rain in front of my house, I'd feel rather guilty."

"Awe, you do care!" Michelle gushed comically and Near deadpanned as he tugged her indoors. The girl was in hysterical giggles as she tumbled inside of the house, Caroline quickly rushing forward to hand them some towels.

Near took the towels, thanked the maid, and turned to throw one of them at Michelle's still stupidly grinning face. "Dry yourself," he commanded as he patted himself dry, the bottom of his pants a little wet. "I don't want you dripping all over the floor. In fact, I think you should borrow some dry clothes just in case." He glanced at Caroline and she nodded briefly, briskly walking away to get the spare clothes.

"You do know that lending me clothes ensures that I'll be coming back again, don't you?" Michelle smiled this time instead of grinning, cocking her head to the side in question.

"As if you won't return again, either way."

* * *

Soon, she was dried off and changed, prancing into the living room a minute or two later to join Near for some hot drinks in the living room. She sat with a mug of hot chocolate across the table from him on an armchair and he sat on another similar one, sipping tea.

"...You know..."

"-This is ridiculous. How long do you want to keep playing around like this?"

Michelle merely smiled politely back at the demanding question and blew gently on her drink. Near waited a reply from her and she took a few careful sips before actually speaking.

"...I'm not playing around, Near."

"Yes you are," The young pajama-clad boy insisted, lowering his tea. "This is all a game for you, isn't it? This.. this running around and pretending... _pretending_ to have 'feelings' for me. I am not a fool, Michelle. I do not have any desire to partake in your games."

"Pretending? Who said _anything_ about pretending, Near?" The mug of chocolate clinked nosily against the table as she set it aside, looking at him seriously with an intense gaze. "...I like you. I really do. I'm not just doing this for the sake of my own amusement. Can't you see? I really, really, really _like_ you."

_**Doki-Doki-Doki-Doki-Doki...**_

His heart clenched and released and Near leaned back, unamused. "I don't believe you. You can't possibly like me as much as you claim. What do you take me for? Some kind of easy mark?"

"Near, if you really think that way of me, then I swear that you've got me all wrong."

"I will not submit to you."

"No one's asking you to submit to anything!" She sounded exasperated now, leaning back into the chair as well and sinking into her seat. "...This is **not** a game. This is **not** a challenge. This is my _devotion to my feelings _for you, Near."

He quickly ignored the increased beating of his heart and ran a hand through his hair, staring to the side. "... You claim that... your feelings for me are closely related to those of romantic ones," He set down his cup of tea as he talked. "Even if your feelings are sincere, I cannot accept them."

"And why not? Because you don't believe in love, Near?"

"That is correct, Michelle."

"It's people like you," the pitch of her voice was getting higher now, and her anger level were rising, and she didn't hesitate ascending to her feet to show it. "Who need to be talked some sense into!"

Near remained seated and glared back at her fiercely. "And it's people _exactly _like yourself who don't posses even a bit of sense."

"What do you have against love?"

"Love is horrible. It breaks you down, tears you apart, distorts your rational thinking and leaves you useless and gasping for breath. If you let anyone get too attached to you, you are bound to get hurt."

"And why do you say that? Have you even been in love before, Near?"

"No. But I have seen more than enough to know what it does to a person. And I must say, I don't find it to be very appealing."

"Love is also amazing. It builds you up, heals you, shows you a new way of thinking and leaves you feeling so much better about yourself and is simply breathtaking, all in all. You have to take a chance and trust people _not _to hurt you."

"And why do _you _say that, Michelle?" Near said skeptically, twirling the same lock of hair over and over again while staring at her with a dull gaze. "Have _you _ever been in love before?"

She moved forward over the small, round table and took his free hand in both of hers, clasping it tightly. He tensed at the action, but did not stop the twirling motion and looked at her awkwardly.

"No, I have never been in love before," Michelle muttered while looking at him dead in the eye. "...But I'm willing to try. With you... and _only _you. Why? Is that so wrong?"

As much as Near would have liked to yank his hand away from her firm grip, he couldn't move. The touch was an immobilizing one. He sat there, a small blush creeping over his cheeks despite his indifferent features. Snorting, he glanced to the side in pretense.

"...How cheesy..." Near muttered, but let her hold his hand, the warmness between her palms and fingers crawling onto his own flesh and made him feel good for some reason, in spite of his uncomfortableness. "...Did you know, Michelle Chua, that you are my _enemy_?"

When a look of confusion crossed her face, he explained further, "Anyone who goes against me, is considered my enemy. I do not have many enemies... only rivals. I think it's safe to say that you are the first."

"In that case," Michelle set his hand free lightly and went back to sitting down. Near was almost regretful that the lovely warmth felt his left hand, but of course, mentioned nothing. "...I guess... you might be my enemy as well, if you put it that way. Heh, don't you find that funny? First, from strangers, then to acquaintances, and then to friends, and then to enemies. And yet, for some reason, I feel even closer to you than I did before."

He was quiet for a second as she spoke, contemplating about what she just told him, and finding it strange that he just might have felt the same way as her for once. _Was that abnormal?_

"Near, let's escalate a level. I don't want to stay enemies. Nor do I want to go back to being just friends, because it's apparent that it's impossible for me. I want you... to be my partner."

"_Partner_?" Near echoed in slight curiosity and interest at her offer. Michelle nodded in reply.

"Yes, partner. Remember the time I asked what you wanted to be when you grew up? You told me you aspired to be the world's greatest detective, didn't you?" Near paused for a moment, recalling that time, and was inwardly surprised how how much of him he told her about. He was more surprised at how much he trusted her. He contemplated this and nodded to keep her going. "Yeah.. and then you told me once that when you're a detective, you have take _all opinions and views _in consideration."

"Yes, that's true, but I don't see where you're getting at?" He questioned and tilted his head to the right a little. Michelle smiled lightly.

"I aspire to be a writer. A writer's stories are only as realistic as what she herself has been through, or so that's what I personally believe. One can write a good story without experiencing any of it herself, but if she really wants to improve, she has to know what she's talking about. You know, the genre I work most on is Romance... and because I have never been in love, how can I possibly hope to write a best-selling romance novel?" She stopped shortly and then went on again, "Don't get me wrong. I'm not using you as a guinea pig for an experiment or anything. That's impossible to accomplish even if I wanted to. You can't bluff that you're in love. So don't worry."

Near was starting to catch on quickly with what she was trying to hint at.

"...So what you're implying is that this 'love' thing might benefit us both?" He arched his right eyebrow slightly and she shrugged.

"Maybe? I'm an author, I can definitely reap fruits from this, and you're a detective. Detectives need to prove the truth behind mysteries. Love is the biggest mystery of all, isn't it? No one knows how to define it." She used both her hands to gesture to herself. "_I_ don't know how to define it. And you definitely don't know, either. I'm just trying to say that it's not useless..."

_Fair enough_, Near thought to himself, but was still skeptical about her trying to convince him like this. _But I am not really worried about whether such a thing would prove to be beneficial or not, rather, more on how it will most likely end up as a disadvantageous bane. _

"...So. We could both be wrong. Love might be a disaster in disguise, or maybe a miracle sent from heaven, for all we know. It might be a million and one things or whatever. We can't justify what it is. We can only conclude what our theory is by looking at other people. But how can you learn to walk like them and see what it's like if you don't get down and crawl first without worrying about getting mud on your knees, if you get what I mean?"

Near quietly contemplated this as well, sitting there without saying anything at all. Michelle sighed softly and lowered her eyes to her hands on her lap, shaking her head slightly.

"...Having said all of that, Near... in the end, I _don't_ give a fuck about what the benefits of falling in love are. Why I want to get myself into this, is because... well, I know I sound like a broken record right now, but for the six hundredth time; _I like you_. Get that into your big, brilliant brain. I sound so fucking irritating right now, trying so badly to convince you." She raised her eyes to meet his once more.

"Basically, what I'm trying to tell you is, if you're willing to be my partner, if you're brave enough to do it, I'll hold your hand and we'll go through this together, headfirst. I hate making promises that I can't keep, so I can't promise that I won't hurt you, but I _will_ promise you that if you give me a chance, I'll do my _absolute_ best. We'll be _partners_, Near. I won't ever leave you alone. If an unhappy ending is waiting for us at the end, it'd probably be just another lesson in life that we have to learn and move on from. But... if you really want a happy ending, I suppose we can achieve that... we can write our own ending. We'd write one of our very own, one that no one else has ever read. Anything is possible with some effort..."

A crocked grin claimed her face and she laughed halfheartedly, pushing the bangs out of her face before looking away. "...Now, I'm just sick and tired of hearing my own voice, believe it or not... I'm blabbering to much. I don't think that I understand half of what the hell I'm talking about myself... I just...want..."

_Too... many... things, maybe. __**You**__ just happen to be one of them.  
_  
Michelle pursed her lips together and refused to say more, leaving the sentence uncompleted.

There was a short silence between the two after that. The type of silence that only meant that neither one of them knew what to say next. The thunder rumbled outside like a giant drum and both of them looked outside at the pouring rain through the window with different expressions. Near was grimacing away while Michelle hung her smile loosely on her lips.

Again, Near noticed this, and there were so many things he wanted to say that he didn't know where to start. Look at her. And look at him. Even their reactions showed so clearly how different they were. Surely it wouldn't work out, even if he wanted it? _And did he want it...? _He didn't know.

_Wait. He **didn't** know?_ This was getting way too unusual and out of hand. For once in his life, Nate River, really didn't have a **single** clue. He was stumped.

What should he say? What should he do? The situation had caught him off guard and he was baffled. Logic told him to stay wise and not give in to this madness. On the other hand, his heart was pounding away like crazy and screaming for something else completely different.

He wanted to tell her _so_ many things that were rushing through his brain. He wanted to ask; what if she was wrong? What if he wasn't capable of love? What if they were unhappy together? What if only regret awaited them? What if they weren't right for each other and they ended up hurt and broken? _What if... what if... what if...?_

Instead, he asked without thinking, "...Why do you like me?"

The light in her eyes flicked thoughtfully at the question and glanced downwards as she searched carefully for the right words to answer him. _Why_, huh? There were so many reasons, which one was the most responsible for her feelings?

She raised her glance back to him and said to him, "I'm not sure about _which_ reason it is exactly, but I think that it's because you take up a very special spot in my life, Near. You've made me _so_ _happy_ and you probably didn't even mean to. You were the _first_ thing that I ever got right. For someone like _me_, that means so much. And until you find something like what I've found in you, you won't be able understand how important you are to me."

_'Important'..._That single word carried so much weight within it. Near had to think carefully again and decide if she telling the truth or if it was just a lie she threw in to convince him. He calmly exchanged gazes with her, curious and unsettled.

And then, all of the sudden, he felt all of insecurities washing away, just like that only because the moment he looked at them, he was sure that those heartfelt, sincere brown eyes could _not _possibly belong to a liar. Could they?

"Near, do you want to be with me?"

He turned once he was faced with the dreaded question again. Near couldn't hear the logical part of his brain anymore over both the deafening sounds of rumbling thunder _and _the violent beating of his heart, which didn't die down even when Michelle left his house. She had left him patiently, still awaiting an answer from him.

For countless hours on end during that grueling stretch of that night, the troubled albino laid sleepless, tormented, and alone in his bed. Occasionally, he would toss and turn on his sides frustratedly as he worked hard wracking his brain, trying but without much success to solve the difficult question that so cruelly stole the ability to sleep away from him.

He laid motionless on his back in tiredness and stared with restless, dead eyes at the empty ceiling, wondering hard.

_"How can you possibly provide someone with an answer that you do not have?"_


	12. UPDATED AUTHOR'S NOTE (2013)

**DEAR READERS  
**

First of all, please allow me to apologise ONCE AGAIN for abruptly abandoning this story and going on a hiatus that was totally uncalled for. I really don't know what to say, and I don't think there's anything I CAN say to excuse my irresponsibility and sorry-excuse-of-a-drive as an author. Not only am I ashamed, but also tremendously guilty over letting myself procrastinate to this extent over a story that meant so much to me at the beginning— and even more so now, before the ending. **Between Guitarstrings And Dice** is a story that I started off writing solely for_ myself_, as a coping mechanism more than anything, to escape and retreat from the harshness of reality when life was at an all time low at one point (which explains _why_ the OC is what she is, but I'll cringe and laugh in embarrassment about that later). This fanfic is dear to me on a personal level and I'm sure that nobody can truly understand how I feel when I say that it makes me IMMENSELY happy that I've been getting such positive feedback from anyone who's ever decided to leave a review. My day has been made many a times because of this, so thank you all so much! You all are wonderful people and I'm just really lucky to have such nice readers.

It makes me shy. And proud. But mostly shy to read some of the things you guys say sometimes, and I feel a need to acknowledge this because it is _because_ of the few recent reviews that have finally urged me to come out of the shadows to speak up again. They mean everything to me, you have no idea.

Have I ever mentioned that I love long reviews? If I did, I'll say it again. Because I _adore_ long reviews, especially the ones that give me something to read about, explaining to me what exactly it is that people like about the story. Not to say I don't appreciate the shorter reviews since they can make me smile just as much, 'course! I make sure to look at each and every review no matter the length.

I, however, want to thank the anonymous **Kirsten** for taking the time to piece together some really inspiring words a while ago to try and help encourage me to keep on writing. I know they wrote it some time back and I didn't respond right away, but I just wanted to say now that that was really one of the sweetest things that anyone's ever said to me in my entire life. You've basically told me everything an author would kill to hear, and I'm not worthy of such kind praises! It's people like you that make me want to improve and strive to become even better at what I do, because I always feel like I'm never enough. I write for people like you, if not for myself, and I genuinely hope that this gets to you so you know how much your encouragement means to me. I am not exaggerating or being dramatic. This _has_ to be said even if I struggle with coming up with a good way to say it. Thank you _so_ much again for touching me.

Another reviewer that I'd like to mention would be **The Darkness That Follows You**, who left me a nice chunk of text more recently with some very good advice in it. Again, you flatter me as well and I died upon receiving your review. Thank you for putting a skip in my step on the day that I read your message, and thank you for reminding me of the possibility that there are people out there who are _still_ interested in seeing the continuation of this humble little fic of mine even now, as surprised as that makes me. You motivate me and you're the final trigger of why I'm writing all of this (at 2am in the morning, no less).

Okay. Well. Enough of all of that. Let me get to the bottom line of what's going on with this fic.

In regards to some of the things that have been brought up, it _is_ tricky writing about a character such as Near. Some days, writing about him comes easily to me, while it no doubt comes harder to me on others. It is the biggest compliment ever when someone says that they enjoy my portrayal of him, but I have to say that after going through the story again... I am suddenly overcome with the strongest desire to re-write a good bulk of the chapters. I've been thinking about this decision for days, and I'm torn with wanting to and not wanting to at the same time. Here are my reasons why.

Most of this writing is considered old now that some time has passed and I'd like to think that I've gone through some improvement in that time span since I find some of the things I've written so far quite gag-worthy. I take my writing very seriously and my self-esteem is very unfortunately fickle. I'm convinced I can do better. It's a sign that my writing style may or may not have changed. And while I'm _certain_ that a revision of the previous chapters would be nice, I'm hesitant to actually do it because in some ways, maybe my old writing has got it's own... charm. (I, er, guess.) It'll be cool to just keep everything as how it is and work on improving as I go along instead so I can see how much my work's evolved. Not to mention that I don't want it to be a pain for me to re-write the selected chapters and make everyone re-read them since I'm probably going to change some things here and there as well as correct some minor flaws that have been bugging me like crazy. I'm also partially wondering if it would be a good idea to start writing some of the chapters in Michelle's point of view instead of strictly keeping it in Near's and a third person's narrative. (Head says_ yes_, but obsessive compulsive disorder says _no_. SIGH. What's a poor girl to do?)

Other than that, what is the verdict of this rant? The verdict, dear reader, is that you'd be glad to know that a draft of chapter 11 is sitting pretty somewhere in my documents and that I'm going to TRY and give it a shot to work on it AGAIN. I'll try not to run this time, I promise. I just don't know if I should consider fixing the older chapters first before I concentrate on moving forward.

In any case, I think that's pretty much all of what I wanted/needed to say. I'd love to hear what you guys think about all that jazz while I ponder about this for a bit! So I'll be keeping this author's note up until further notice. I love you all.

SORRY FOR TAKING UP ALL OF YOUR TIME. AND I'M SO SORRY THIS WASN'T A CHAPTER UPDATE INSTEAD.

_Yours sincerely,_

_Summer._


	13. To The Flamer

Dear I Speak It,

There seems to be some misinterpretation here. I am sorry that you seem to be offended by the titles I have chosen for my earlier chapters, but I must say that you are dreadfully mistaken when you think that I am calling myself a "God". When I use the phrase "Who Is Like God" in the title next to the name **Michelle**, I am simply referring to the _meaning behind the name. _Likewise, the meaning of the name **Nate** would be "Gift Of God".

Just a little note from me to you as you are on anonymous and I have no way of passing on this message otherwise.


End file.
